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Of 


THE    RIGHT   TRACK 


THE     ONLY    SON 


THE  RIGHT  TRACK 

BY 

CLARA  LOUISE   BURNHAM 


WITH  FRONTISPIECE  BY 
MART  GREENE  BLUMINSCHEIN 


NEW  YORK 

GROSSET  &  DUNLAP 

PUBLISHERS  • 


Contents 


XIX.  A  CRUSADER 293 

XX.  THE  HOUSE-WARMING     ....  305 

XXI.  THE  ONLY  SON 319 

XXII.  THE  HUSBAND 338 

XXIII.  THE  SINGING  GROVE         ....  353 

XXIV.  GUTEN  ABEND,  GUTE  NACHT        .       .  369 
XXV.  A  WAY  OUT 383 

XXVI.  SUNRISE 395 

XXVII.  THE  ANGEL'S  NAME  .       .       .       .       .413 


THE   RIGHT  TRACK 


THE  RIGHT  TRACK 

CHAPTER  I 

MAN   PROPOSES 

IN  a  cheap  apartment  on  a  side  street  of  the 
city  Mabel  Ford  and  her  brother  stood  near  a 
window  watching  for  the  arrival  of  her  success- 
ful suitor.  The  symmetrical  face  which  had  won 
him  wore  its  habitual  look  of  discontent. 

Only  two  weeks  had  passed  since  the  death  of 
the  invalid  mother  whose  needs  had  hampered 
her  life.  Mabel  Ford  had  always  felt  keenly 
how  hardly  Fate  differentiates  between  the 
boys  and  girls  in  a  family  whose  "bottom 
dollar"  is  always  on  top.  Of  course  the  decree 
had  been  that  her  brother  must  be  educated, 
and  even  with  all  his  own  efforts  the  family 
resources  were  exhausted  in  putting  Victor 
through  college,  and  after  he  was  admitted  to 
the  bar,  in  helping  him  to  wait  for  the  business 
so  slow  to  come  to  a  young  lawyer. 

While  his  mother  had  passionately  admired 
the  stamina  with  which  Victor  worked  his  way, 
turning  his  hand  to  any  service  he  could  render, 

3 


The  Right  Track 


Mabel,  as  passionately,  had  envied  him.  How 
willingly  she  would  have  sewed  on  buttons  at 
five  cents  apiece,  and  sat  up  into  the  night 
working  for  her  more  fortunate  sisters;  but  the 
home  exigencies  compelled  her.  She  must  cook 
and  wait  on  an  invalid  during  the  precious 
years,  while  Victor  had  the  joy  of  books  and 
study,  his  time  was  respected,  his  future 
anticipated,  and  his  mother's  tired  eyes  bright- 
ened when  they  rested  upon  him.  What  won- 
der that  his  disposition  was  gay  and  bright,  in 
spite  of  hard  work  and  shabby  clothes. 

Mabel's  heart  often  swelled  seeing  the  pride 
in  Victor  shine  in  her  mother's  face.  For  her- 
self, the  heat  and  burden  of  the  day;  for  him, 
the  reward  and  praise.  She  did  not  know  how 
her  mother  perceived  her  chafing  and  suffered; 
how  she  grew  timid  of  offering  caresses  to  a 
resigned  daughter  around  whose  neck  she  hung 
as  a  helpless  burden. 

At  last  one  day  the  lawyer  in  whose  office 
Victor  had  begun  to  work  gave  him  charge  of  a 
case  brought  to  them  by  one  James  Barnes, 
a  successful  dealer  in  grain.  This  gentleman  of 
nearly  fifty  on  one  visit  to  the  office  encoun- 
tered the  sister  of  his  young  attorney.  She  was 
languid,  unsmiling,  and  as  blase  in  manner  as 

4 


Man  Proposes 


though  the  cheap  fur  that  protected  her  throat 
were  sable  and  a  limousine  with  downy  cush- 
ions awaited  her  descent  to  the  street.  What 
was  wrong  with  James  Barnes's  eyesight  that 
he  could  not  perceive  even  at  a  glance  that 
this  girl  was  not  one  to  sit  opposite  his  good- 
natured  face  at  breakfast  and  add  to  its  good 
nature  ? 

As  the  event  proved,  she  never  did  sit  oppo- 
site him  at  this  early  meal,  preferring  coffee  in 
her  room  at  a  later  hour. 

However,  on  that  day  when  he  first  gazed 
at  the  proud  curve  of  her  shabby  shoulders  and 
met  the  self-possessed  glance  she  gave  him  at 
her  brother's  introduction,  he  said  to  himself: 
"That's  a  stunning  girl.  She'd  know  how  to 
spend  my  money  and  spend  it  right."  Which 
prompt  soliloquy  shows  that  James  Barnes  had 
been  contemplating  matrimony. 

From  that  day,  the  most  unexpected  events 
occurred  with  swiftness. 

Mrs.  Ford  died.  Mr.  Barnes  attended  the 
funeral,  and  the  following  day  proposed  to 
Mabel  and  was  accepted,  the  young  woman 
looking  straight  through  his  graying  head  upon 
an  interminable  vista  of  books  which  he  cer- 
tainly did  not  know  were  there,  nor  would  he 

5 


The  Right  Track 


have  opened  the  covers  had  they  been  visible; 
not  possessing  more  than  a  bowing  acquaint- 
ance with  printed  matter  outside  the  daily 
papers. 

The  grain  dealer  was  overjoyed  by  Mabel's 
quiet  acceptance  of  him,  and  Victor  heartily 
approved  the  match.  The  creaking  and  reluc- 
tant machinery  of  life,  with  always  too  little 
money  to  grease  the  wheels,  had  given  him  a 
tremendous  respect  for  that  lubricant,  for  his 
was  a  gayety-loving  nature  whose  longings  no 
amount  of  grinding  and  tutoring  and  shiny 
coats  had  been  able  to  suppress.  He  had  chafed 
quite  as  much  as  his  sister,  but  ordinary  man- 
liness prevented  him  from  showing  aught  but 
gratitude  to  his  sacrificing  womenfolk. 

He  had  come  to  respect  his  grain-dealing 
client  highly  and  to  like  him  sufficiently  to  be 
rather  staggered  when  James  Barnes  first  un- 
folded to  him  his  hopes.  He  was  honestly  afraid 
for  him;  so,  while  eagerly  desirous  of  the  suit- 
or's success,  he  felt  bound  to  make  a  faint 
demur. 

"You  honor  us  very  much,  Mr.  Barnes,"  he 
said. 

"Pooh  pooh,  my  boy,"  returned  his  client. 
"Youth  and  beauty  will  honor  me  if  she'll  take 

6 


Man  Proposes 


pity  on  my  loneliness.  My  daughter  is  'going 
away  to  school." 

"You  have  a  daughter?"  asked  Victor.  "I 
knew  there  was  a  small  Junior,  but  I  have  n't 
heard  you  speak  of  a  daughter." 

"Yes,  Elaine's  eighteen." 

"Does  she  know  —  have  you  told  her — " 

"No,  not  yet,"  returned  Mr.  Barnes,  his 
smooth  -  shaven  face  glowing  optimistically ; 
"but  Elaine '11  be  delighted.  She  hates  to  go 
away  and  leave  her  little  brother  and  me  alone. 
But,"  his  premature  elation  sinking,  "do  you 
believe  your  sister '11  consider  me,  Ford?" 

"I  should  certainly  think  she  would,"  re- 
turned Mabel's  brother  with  conviction,  a  trail 
of  financial  difficulties,  years  long,  dragging 
past  his  mental  vision. 

But  when  the  young  woman  announced  to 
him  that  she  had  not  hesitated,  his  elation  was 
still  mingled  with  apprehension. 

"Now,  see  here,  Mabel,"  he  warned,  "you 
play  fair.  Barnes  is  n't  any  highbrow  and  you 
know  it  beforehand.  He's  just  a  successful, 
clever  operator  on  the  Board  and  he  does  n't 
pretend  to  be  anything  else." 

Mabel  raised  her  eyebrows  with  a  slight 
smile. 


The  Right  Track 


"I  don't  know  what  barbarity  you  suspect 
me  of.  I'm  not  going  to  marry  him  loving 
somebody  else." 

"No,  thank  Heaven.  For  once,  I'm  grateful 
that  you're  as  cold  as  a  turnip." 

"Thank  you,  brother." 

The  irony  of  her  quiet  tone  did  not  prevent 
her  companion  from  an  unusual  demonstration. 
He  threw  his  arms  around  her. 

"Mabel,  I  hope  you'll  be  happy!"  he  ex- 
claimed ardently.  "  I  Ve  never  seen  you  happy. 
Now,"  he  swallowed  a  lump,  "dear  little 
mother  's  at  rest,  you  would  n't  have  to  work  so 
hard,  but  I'm  so  slow  getting  business.  Barnes 
is  about  the  only  client  I  can  call  a  real  one  — 
and  we  can't  exactly  live  on  him?" 

"I'm  going  to  try,"  returned  Mabel  calmly, 
looking  at  the  threadbare  sleeve  under  her  chin 
as  Victor  hugged  her  close,  his  appealing  voice 
half-breaking  as  he  spoke. 

She  patted  his  arm  and  he  dropped  it. 

"It's  too  late  for  me  to  be  happy  —  as  I'd 
like  to  have  been,"  she  said  in  a  different  tone. 

"How  can  it  be  too  late  for  anything  with 
you!"  responded  her  brother,  still  with  some 
effort  to  maintain  a  steady  voice.  "You're 
only  two  years  older  than  I  am." 

8 


Man  Proposes 


"Oh,  but  I  feel  a  hundred.  I  wanted  to  go 
to  college."  It  burst  from  her.  She  had  never 
repined  openly.  "It  was  the  only  thing  I 
wanted  in  the  whole  world.  I  wanted  to  be 
equipped  for  the  world's  work.  I  wanted  to  be 
an  intelligent  woman  among  intelligent  women. 
I  wanted  to  tingle  with  the  wonderful  free- 
masonry of  sororities  and  college  spirit."  Her 
face  lighted  and  shone  and  faded.  "I  can't. 
It's  over.  I  drudged  instead.  I've  been  too 
tired  and  harassed  at  night  for  books."  Her 
lips  tightened  and  Victor  looked  at  her,  his  own 
lips  parted. 

"Never  mind,"  she  added  hardily  after  the 
brief  silence.  "We  have  a  lawyer  in  the  family; 
and  I  —  I  'm  not  going  to  drudge  any  more. 
There's  the  proof."  She  gestured  toward  the 
window  near  which  they  were  standing.  A 
motor  car  was  drawing  up  before  the  door  of  the 
cheap  apartment  house.  "  That's  going  to  be 
mine,"  she  said,  as  they  watched  it. 

"Do  you  know  he  has  a  grown  daughter?" 
asked  Victor,  gazing  gloomily. 

"Yes.  He  wanted  to  surprise  her  with  me, 
face  to  face.  I  would  n't  allow  it.  I  made  him 
promise  to  tell  her.  She'll  hate  me,  of  course; 
but  she's  going  away  to  school." 

9 


The  Right  Track 


The  last  words  were  faint,  and  a  yearning 
crept  into  them. 

"Mabel!"  exclaimed  her  brother  acutely, 
"you  make  me  feel  like  a  thief." 

His  sister  shook  her  head.  "You  needn't," 
she  said.  "You  could  n't  help  it." 

Such  satisfaction  as  Mabel  Ford  had  taken 
in  life  consisted  in  a  secret  pride  in  her  own 
heroism.  In  another  day  and  place  she  told 
herself  she  might  have  been  a  Spartan  mother. 
Now  she  was  a  Spartan  daughter  and  sister. 
The  white  concern  in  her  brother's  face  as  they 
stood  there  together  gave  her  a  slight  thrill  of 
compensation.  "It  was  not  your  fault,"  she 
continued.  Then  her  colorless  voice  changed 
and  she  spoke  hurriedly  as  she  watched  from 
the  window:  — 

"He 's  getting  out  of  the  car.  Let  us  go  down. 
Don't  let  him  come  up  here.  Oh,  I'm  glad 
you  're  with  me.  It  will  make  it  easier  to  meet 
his  children.  I  feel  as  if  I  were  going  to  a  fu- 
neral." And  Victor,  holding  his  sister's  coat, 
felt  a  miserable  culprit. 

The  bell  buzzed  in  the  apartment  as  the  two 
went  down  the  stair  with  its  worn  carpet. 

The  beaming  face  of  their  visitor  espied  them. 
He  tried  to  moderate  his  exuberance  as  he  met 

IQ 


Man  Proposes 


the  dignified  greeting  of  his  loved  one.  Her 
black  garb  rebuked  him.  He  observed  that  his 
young  lawyer,  too,  looked  pale. 

"So  good  of  you  both  to  be  ready,"  he  said; 
and  they  all  emerged  into  the  dark  September 
afternoon  and  out  of  its  chill  and  gloom  into 
the  luxurious,  shining  limousine,  a  strange  visi- 
tor in  that  street  and  one  which  had  already 
brought  several  faces  to  neighboring  windows. 

Mabel  sank  back  into  cushions  which  seemed 
to  embrace  her  softly  in  unsounded  depths. 
Mr.  Barnes's  face  questioned  her  exultantly  as 
he  took  his  place. 

"Just  a  little  gift  for  you,  Mabel,"  he  said. 
"Latest  model.  Do  you  like  it?" 

As  the  machine  moved  forward  on  velvet 
wheels,  Mabel  gave  an  unconscious  sigh  of  sat- 
isfaction and  rewarded  her  lover  with  a  smile. 

A  swift,  restful  vision  of  all  this  stood  for 
stole  over  her.  No  more  careful  keeping  of 
accounts.  No  more  wondering  whether  one 
might  have  a  ragged  chair  re-covered.  No  more 
sordid  knowledge  of  cheap  dinners  within  a 
fireless  cooker. 

"It  is  perfect,"  she  said. 

"Like  yourself,"  returned  the  grain  dealer 
promptly;  then  he  glanced  across  at  the  silent 

ii 


The  Right  Track 


and  pale  young  man  whom  he  had  always 
known  so  full  of  life.  "Awfully  cut  up  about  his 
mother,  poor  chap,"  he  reflected. 

"You  don't  mind  my  spoiling  your  sister,  I 
hope?"  he  asked. 

"Mabel  has  had  very  little  spoiling,"  replied 
Victor  briefly.  "It's  coming  to  her." 

Mabel  did  not  speak.  The  thoughts  behind 
her  handsome,  impassive  face  were  occupied 
with  the  coming  visit.  Her  mind  was  so  habitu- 
ated to  resentment  that  this  tinged  her  attitude 
toward  the  encumbrances  belonging  to  the  man 
who  was  about  to  relieve  her  of  the  embarrass- 
ments of  life.  It  was  tiresome  that  he  should 
have  a  son  and  daughter;  but  then  she  had 
always  been  unlucky,  and  she  could  still  bear 
and  forbear.  She  prided  herself  on  the  fact. 

Her  eyes  rested  on  the  dainty  appurtenances 
of  the  car  and  she  wondered  if  Mr.  Barnes's 
home  were  also  a  late  model.  Fortunately  the 
wondering  was  half  indifference,  for  the  velvet 
wheels  glided  into  a  street  from  which  fashion 
had  turned,  and  stopped  before  a  gray  stone 
house  in  the  middle  of  a  block. 

The  drive  had  brought  the  color  back  to 
Victor  Ford's  face.  His  highly  respected  and 
genial  client  seemed  as  substantial  as  the  walls 

12 


Man  Proposes 


of  his  own  home.  He  seemed  a  promising  bul- 
wark to  stand  between  Mabel  and  the  hard 
world.  Victor's  eyes  glanced  sharply  over  the 
old-fashioned  facade.  If  only  the  door  would 
swing  open  and  a  bright  girlish  face  appear 
with  a  welcome.  Why  should  Mabel  predict 
that  Elaine  Barnes  would  hate  her  and  predict 
it  with  indifference?  Why  did  Mabel  always 
anticipate  the  disagreeable  as  if  she  were  deter- 
mined that  unkind  Fate  should  never  get  ahead 
of  her? 

The  heavy  door,  however,  remained  closed 
and  the  exuberance  of  satisfaction  which  had 
illumined  the  host's  face  throughout  the  drive 
faded  as  his  guests  followed  him  up  the  stone 
steps,  and  a  serious  line  came  into  his  forehead 
as  he  fitted  his  latch-key  into  the  door. 

When  they  entered  the  gloomy  hall  it  was 
vacant. 

"Well,  what's  become  of  Elaine,  I  wonder," 
said  Mr.  Barnes,  and  it  was  evident  to  his  com- 
panions that  his  loud  tone  was  a  warning.  "  I 
told  her  we'd  arrive  about — Oh,  there  you  arc, 
Bessie,"  he  added  as  a  neat  maid  emerged  from 
the  depths  of  the  hall.  "Take  care  of  Miss 
Ford,  will  you?  Bessie '11  bring  you  down  as 
soon  as  you  're  ready,  Mabel.  Your  brother  and 

13 


The  Right  Track 


I  will  be  anxiously  waiting."  He  smiled  on  his 
beloved  with  an  expression  which  the  maid 
noted  for  the  benefit  of  her  young  mistress. 
Her  alert  eyes  took  in  the  cheapness  of  Mabel's 
mourning  as  they  mounted  the  stairs.  This  she 
would  not  have  to  describe  to  Miss  Barnes. 
Elaine  could  calculate  to  a  hair  the  value  of  dry 
goods. 

Victor  followed  his  host  into  a  comfortable 
den  where  an  open  fire  glowed,  and  plump 
leather  chairs  extended  welcoming  arms.  "I 
like  a  wood  fire,"  said  the  grain  dealer,  opening 
and  closing  his  hands  before  it.  "Reminds  me 
of  the  country.  Know  much  about  the  country, 
Ford?" 

"Not  a  bit,"  replied  Victor,  his  ears  strained 
for  a  sound  of  the  approach  of  the  daughter 
of  the  house.  Perhaps  she  had  waited  upstairs 
for  Mabel.  Perhaps  she  preferred  to  meet  her 
alone.  Perhaps  even  now  she  had  her  arms 
about  Mabel's  neck.  He  wished  his  sister  were 
not  so  undemonstrative.  He  hoped  she  would 
not  throw  cold  water  on  a  young  girl's  enthu- 
siasm. 

"Well,  you  miss  a  lot,"  declared  Mr.  Barnes 
reflectively.  "I  was  brought  up  on  a  farm,  not 
forty  miles  from  here.  Brierly.  Ever  hear  of 


Man  Proposes 


Brierly?  Sweet  Brierly  I  call  it."  The  speaker 
smiled  reflectively. 

A  good  face,  Victor  considered.  He  could 
imagine  a  daughter  of  such  a  man  as  a  sweet 
wholesome  creature. 

Perhaps  she  was  at  this  moment  shedding  a 
few  tears  on  Mabel's  shoulder.  He  hoped  his 
sister  was  responsive. 

"Yes,"  he  replied,  "I  think  I  have  heard  of 
Brierly.  Shoe  manufacturing  place,  isn't  it?" 

"Ye — es,"  drawled  Mr.  Barnes  with  lenient 
affection,  "in  a  small  way.  Everything  in 
Brierly  grows  in  a  small  way  —  except  trees  — 
and  huckleberries  —  and  pasture  rocks  —  All 
hustling  life  seems  to  flow  by  it  on  both  sides. 
It  stands  like  an  island  in  a  tumultuous  sea. 
Some  day  I  suppose  a  tidal  wave  will  send  trol- 
leys banging  through  the  streets ;  but  when  I 
saw  the  farm  a  year  ago,  it  was  still  peaceful 
as  a  bird's  nest." 

"Is  it  your  farm?"  inquired  the  guest,  his 
thoughts  still  abovestairs. 

"No.  It  passed  away  from  us  some  time  ago. 
I've  always  hankered  for  it,  though.  Perhaps 
some  day — "  The  speaker  recollected  himself 
with  a  start.  "  We  must  go  into  the  other  room," 
he  said.  "They'll  bring  Mabel  there.  I  just 

15 


The  Right  Track 


wanted  you  to  see  this  fireside  where  I  hope 
you'll  spend  many  an  hour  with  me." 

Victor  followed  his  host  out  into  the  hall,  and 
glanced  up  the  staircase. 

Mabel  was  descending.  He  looked  eagerly  at 
the  figure  following  her;  but  it  was  the  maid, 
Bessie. 

"My  dear,"  said  Mr.  Barnes,  standing  at  the 
foot  of  the  stairs  and  extending  his  hand  in 
welcome;  "we  guessed  just  right.  Have  you 
seen  Elaine?" 

"No,"  replied  Mabel,  and  she  laid  her  cool 
hand  in  the  outstretched  one. 

"Miss  Elaine  is  in  the  drawing-room,  Mr. 
Barnes,"  said  Bessie. 

"Very  well.  Where  is  Junior?" 

"Miss  Pinkerton  is  just  undressing  him,  sir." 

"Undressing  him?  Tell  her  to  put  on  his 
clothes  again  and  bring  him  down." 

"He  has  n't  been  very  well  to-day  and  Miss 
Pinkerton  thought — " 

"He  was  quite  well  at  five  o'clock,"  said  Mr. 
Barnes  sternly.  "Tell  her  to  bring  him  down 
at  once." 

"Yes,  sir,"  and  the  maid  turned  about  and 
again  ascended  the  stairs. 


CHAPTER  II 

THE   INTERLOPERS 

JAMES  BARNES'S  tone  and  manner  gave  his 
fiancee  a  little  sense  of  satisfaction.  At  least 
she  was  going  to  marry  a  man ;  one  who  could  n't 
be  bullied  by  his  womenfolk.  Now,  then,  for 
Elaine.  The  inimical  atmosphere  was  what  she 
had  expected.  One  must  pay  for  everything  in 
this  weary  world,  it  seemed. 

She  approached  the  entrance  to  the  old- 
fashioned  drawing-room,  unfaltering.  Not  so 
her  brother.  He  had  fallen  from  a  height,  find- 
ing that  the  daughter  of  the  house  was  still 
invisible,  and  he  had  felt  his  cheeks  grow  hot 
during  the  brief  colloquy  with  the  maid. 

He  viewed  his  sister's  high-headed  compo- 
sure with  wonder.  They  were  interlopers.  A 
repulse  was  in  the  very  air  of  this  gloomy  house. 
He  resented  it,  too.  Mabel  was  a  fine  girl. 
What  right  had  Elaine  Barnes  to  condemn  her 
unseen  ? 

The  host  held  aside  the  heavy  portiere  for  his 
guests  to  enter.  The  room  was  large.  Gas-logs 

17 


The  Right  Track 


were  flaming  windily  in  the  fireplace.  The 
lights  were  high  and  uncompromisingly  white. 
There  was  no  coziness  and  little  taste  displayed 
in  the  stiff  arrangement  of  the  furniture. 

A  slender  young  girl  stood  there  waiting;  the 
white  lights  glinted  on  her  blonde  hair  and 
made  her  thin,  white  face  whiter.  Her  large 
blue  eyes,  set  well  apart,  looked  at  the  visitors 
composedly,  and  the  folds  of  her  creamy  gown 
made  no  sound  as  she  slowly  advanced. 

"Well,  Elaine,  you  have  kept  us  guessing," 
said  her  father  with  an  effort  at  lightness. 
"This  is  Miss  Ford  and  her  brother,  and  this 
is  my  little  girl."  As  he  finished,  Mr.  Barnes 
threw  his  arm  around  the  slight  figure  of  his 
child,  and  tried  by  dint  of  his  own  warmth  to 
bring  some  cordiality  into  the  meeting. 

Mabel's  dark  face  and  queenly  stature  made 
no  appeal.  Cold  hands  met  in  a  murmur  of 
greeting;  while  the  host  talked  on. 

"And  this  is  my  lawyer,  you  know,  Elaine. 
Rather  young  head  to  carry  all  he  knows,  but 
he's  right  on  the  job,  I  tell  you." 

Victor  touched  the  passively  offered  girlish 
hand  while  he  saw  the  great  blue  eyes  miss  his 
own  and  take  in  the  details  of  his  appearance. 
He  felt  that  they  appraised  the  shiny  buttons 

18 


The  Interlopers 


on  his  coat  and  knew  just  how  soon  the  moulds 
would  burst  through  their  covering. 

The  night  toilet  of  James  Junior  could  not 
have  been  very  far  advanced,  and  Bessie  must 
have  given  a  spirited  version  of  her  master's  or- 
der, for  here  Miss  Pinkerton  entered  the  room, 
leading  her  charge  by  the  hand. 

Miss  Pinkerton  was  the  factotum  of  the 
Barnes  household,  and  the  thunderbolt  of 
Mabel's  advent  into  the  family  life  had  splin- 
tered one  of  the  most  promising  castles-in-the- 
air  ever  built  by  a  middle-aged,  enterprising, 
and  rather  engaging  spinster.  The  lady  had 
been  but  waiting  for  Elaine's  departure  to  a 
fashionable  New  York  school  to  perfect  her 
situation  in  the  home  by  becoming  Junior's 
stepmother.  She  did  not  know  that  a  man 
becomes  at  fifty  most  critical  of  her  sex,  or 
dream  that  her  employer  considered  her  pudgy 
and  hated  the  way  her  pompadour  dropped  low 
on  her  forehead. 

"Ah,  Miss  Pinkerton,"  said  Mr.  Barnes,  sud- 
denly beholding  the  piquant  nez  retrousse 
which  always  seemed  peeking  up  at  its  owner's 
drooping  hair  as  if  apprehending  eclipse.  The 
father  released  his  daughter. 

"Mabel,  I  want  you  to  meet  Miss  Pinkerton, 
19 


The  Right  Track 


chief  prop  and  support  of  this  old  house  of 
mine." 

Miss  Pinkerton  acknowledged  the  introduc- 
tion with  a  glance  at  Mabel's  regal  head,  and 
then  a  stately  bow,  which  ignored  the  flutter 
of  the  guest's  uncertain  hand ;  she  stood  immov- 
able, holding  tightly  to  her  side  a  little  boy  of 
six. 

As  Mabel  regarded  her  future  stepson  he 
glared  at  her  balefully  out  of  the  tops  of  his 
gray  eyes.  He  was  pale  and  slender  of  face  like 
his  sister,  and  looked  very  small  in  his  black 
velvet  suit.  "A  sickly  child!"  thought  Mabel, 
bracing  herself;  glad  again  of  her  own  Spartan 
nature. 

"And  this  is  my  baby!"  declared  Mr. 
Barnes,  stooping  to  the  little  boy,  and  catching 
him  from  Miss  Pinkerton's  grasp  into  his 
strong  arms.  He  carried  him  close  to  Mabel. 

"Ain't  a  baby!"  growled  the  youngster  sul- 
lenly, still  scowling  at  Mabel,  who  again  put 
out  an  uncertain  hand,  wondering  if  she  should 
pat  the  black  velvet. 

"This  lady  is  going  to  be  the  best  friend  you 
have  in  the  world,"  went  on  Mr.  Barnes,  un- 
consciously throwing  darts  into  the  breasts  of 
daughter  and  housekeeper.  "  Kiss  her,  old  chap." 

20 


The  Interlopers 


"I  won't!"  The  child  strained  back  in  his 
father's  arms,  his  eyes  looking  straight  into 
Mabel's.  "You  kept  my  daddy  downstairs," 
he  said  accusingly. 

Mr.  Barnes  laughed.  "That 's  where  the  shoe 
pinches,  eh?  Forgive  him,  Mabel.  He's  a 
nervous  little  chap  and  he's  used  to  my  going 
up  to  see  him  as  soon  as  I  come  into  the  house." 

Mabel  felt  that  some  gracious  response  was 
due  from  her.  She  lifted  the  child's  little  hand 
quickly  and  kissed  it.  The  boy  as  quickly  drew 
his  other  hand  from  about  his  father's  neck  and 
wiped  off  the  caress  with  vigor. 

"Does  n't  know  when  he's  in  luck,"  said  Mr. 
Barnes,  putting  him  down,  and  trying  to  con- 
ceal his  annoyance.  "Take  him  away,  Miss 
Pinkerton;  I'm  ashamed  of  him." 

Mabel  colored  a  little,  but  spoke  composedly, 
while  Miss  Pinkerton  started  to  withdraw  in 
triumph. 

"Why  should  children  be  expected  to  like 
strangers?  Junior  is  in  luck;  for  he  can  still  be 
honest,"  she  said. 

But  the  retreat  was  not  accomplished  so 
easily.  The  small  boy  broke  from  the  restrain- 
ing grasp,  ran  back  to  his  father,  and  looked  far 
up  into  his  eyes. 

21 


The  Right  Track 


"Miss  Pink'ton  says  you  won't  come  up- 
stairs," he  said.  "Kiss  me  good-night,  Daddy." 

His  father  folded  his  arms,  and,  looking  down 
at  him,  shook  his  head.  "No,  you're  not  a 
gentleman." 

Junior  cast  a  furtive,  resentful  glance  at 
Mabel. 

"Can't  be  a  gent'man  till  I  grow  up?"  he 
said  in  gruff  appeal  to  his  father's  reproachful 
eyes. 

"  Shake  hands  with  dear  Miss  Ford  and  I  '11 
kiss  you,"  replied  Mr.  Barnes. 

Junior  again  lifted  the  resentful  gaze  to 
Mabel's  countenance.  She  tried  to  smile  in- 
gratiatingly and  put  out  her  hand.  The  child 
evidently  strove  with  himself,  but  could  not 
yield.  With  a  stamp  of  his  little  foot  he  turned, 
and  a  big  sob  raised  his  chest. 

Instantly  springing  forward,  Elaine  was  on 
her  knees  beside  him.  "It's  all  right,  Junior," 
she  said,  "sister '11  kiss  you."  She  tried  to  take 
him  in  her  arms,  but  he  pushed  her  away  with 
all  his  strength  and  fled  from  the  room.  The 
embarrassment  of  the  scene  was  not  lessened 
by  the  revelation  of  how  little  the  sister  meant 
to  the  boy.  Elaine  colored  consciously  and 
Victor  enjoyed  her  discomfiture. 

22 


The  Interlopers 


"It's  of  no  use  to  show  off  a  child  at  sleepy 
time,"  she  said,  with  an  affectation  of  careless- 
ness ;  but  she  could  not  quite  get  back  upon  the 
pedestal  she  had  determined  not  to  quit;  and 
meeting  the  speculative  look  in  Victor's  grave 
eyes,  she  turned  with  relief  to  the  maid  who  at 
that  instant  announced  dinner. 

"You  are  going  away  to  school,"  said  Mabel, 
addressing  the  young  hostess  when  the  soup 
was  removed.  "Is  it  to  college?" 

"No,"  replied  Elaine,  with  an  affected  lift  of 
the  head.  "I  don't  wish  to  go  to  college." 

Mabel  felt  the  possibility  of  any  bond  be- 
tween them  vanish  on  the  instant. 

"Elaine  has  never  been  very  strong,"  said 
her  father,  mentally  deploring  the  girl's  air, 
while  he  attacked  the  deliciously  browned 
turkey  set  before  him.  "We  have  a  native 
heath,  Mabel.  I  was  speaking  to  your  brother 
about  it.  Little  town  of  Brierly,  only  forty 
miles  from  here;  but  you'd  think  it  was  five 
hundred  if  you  were  set  down  on  the  farm. 
That's  where  Elaine  was  born.  I  had  her  spend 
this  last  summer  with  the  Shanklins,  some  good 
neighbors  of  ours  there,  and  drink  milk  and 
eat  cream  cheese  to  her  heart's  content." 

"My    heart's    content!"    repeated    Elaine 


The  Right  Track 


scornfully.  "  I  would  n't  eat  cream  cheese  to 
save  my  life.  There  was  n't  much  content 
about  vegetating  in  Brierly,  I  assure  you." 

"  I  thought  I  'd  tone  her  up  for  this  last  winter 
in  school,"  continued  Mr.  Barnes. 

"  It's  a  pity  you  're  not  going  to  college,"  said 
Mabel  wistfully,  gazing  at  the  girl,  who  returned 
her  look  brazenly. 

"Why?"  she  asked  deliberately.  "Because 
I'd  be  gone  four  years  instead  of  one?" 

Mr.  Barnes  struck  in  quickly.  From  his 
manner  Victor  wondered  whether  he  even  real- 
ized the  incredible  impertinence  of  this  girl 
with  the  angelic  coloring. 

"I'd  be  willing,  perfectly  willing,  to  send 
Elaine  to  college,"  he  pursued,  struggling  with 
a  second  joint.  He  believed  Miss  Pinkerton  had 
purposely  chosen  a  tough  turkey.  She  had 
excused  herself  from  the  meal.  "But  this  col- 
lege business,"  he  went  on,  "takes  more  staying 
power  than  Elaine's  got.  She's  chosen  a  school 
in  New  York  warranted  to  turn  out  a  finished 
article." 

"She  has  chosen  well,"  said  Victor  quietly, 
his  very  good-looking  eyes  shining;  "but  do 
they  guarantee  the  result?" 

"Yes,  oh,  yes,"  laughed  the  host.  "It's  a 
24 


The  Interlopers 


little  like  the  promise  to  give  proficiency  in  the 
French  language  in  twelve  easy  lessons;  but  at 
least  they  charge  enough  to  make  Elaine  a 
wonder." 

"She's  a  wonder  now,"  declared  Victor;  and 
this  time  Mabel  came  to  the  rescue.  She  did 
not  wish  to  see  her  brother  break  up  her  match 
with  the  table  furniture  and  she  judged  from 
his  tone  that  might  come  next.  What  was  an 
impertinent  daughter  more  or  less  in  her  calcu- 
lations ?  Was  she  not  a  Spartan  ? 

"Victor  knows  that  it  was  the  desire  of  my 
life  to  go  to  college,"  she  said  pacifically. 

"Glad  you  did  n't,  Mabel,  glad  you  did  n't," 
remarked  the  host  heartily.  "  If  you  had  gone, 
perhaps  now  you  would  n't  look  at  a  plain  old 
fellow  like  me." 

Elaine  gazed  at  her  father,  her  lips  com- 
pressed. Did  he  not  know  that  this  statuesque 
creature,  under  thirty,  was  not  looking  at  him? 
Never  had  looked  at  him,  and  never  would? 
Two  months  ago  he  had  been  ignorant  of  her  ex- 
istence. Elaine,  however,  had  become  conscious 
of  Victor's  eyes.  Each  time  she  looked  up  she 
encountered  their  steady  gaze.  It  intimidated 
her  in  spite  of  her  contempt  for  his  clothes,  and 
his  connivance  in  making  her  father  absurd. 

25 


The  Right  Track 


A  number  of  the  speeches  which  she  had 
planned  to  make  dropped  from  her  list. 

She  uttered  one,  however,  and  it  took  cour- 
age; but  if  her  father  were  to  be  saved,  this 
would  save  him.  She  and  Victor  were  left  alone 
for  a  moment  just  as  the  car  came  to  the  door. 
Mr.  Barnes  had  gone  upstairs  with  Mabel  and 
taken  her  into  the  nursery  to  look  upon  Junior 
in  his  sleep.  The  baby  face  even  now  had  a 
troubled  look  and  Miss  Pinkerton  rocked 
excitedly  in  her  chair  when  her  employer  in- 
sisted upon  turning  up  the  light. 

As  the  engaged  pair  were  coming  downstairs 
dressed  for  the  ride  home,  Mabel  noted  her 
brother  standing,  hat  in  one  hand  and  the  other 
on  the  doorknob  as  if  eager  to  be  gone,  his  eyes 
bent  on  the  staircase. 

"Elaine,  Elaine,"  called  Mr.  Barnes,  "we're  off ." 

The  cream -white  gown  came  softly  from 
between  the  dark  velvet  portieres,  and  the  girl 
held  out  her  hand  to  Mabel  who  bade  her  good- 
night. 

"Say  good-night  to  Victor,"  said  the  host 
cheerfully.  Of  course  the  whole  evening  had 
been  a  hard  spot,  but  after  all  it  had  not  gone 
so  badly.  At  any  rate,  the  ice  was  broken. 
Everything  would  go  swimmingly  after  this. 

26 


The  Interlopers 


Victor  bowed  curtly.  "We've  said  good- 
bye," he  remarked. 

He  believed  it,  too.  No  matter  how  soft  the 
cushions  of  the  limousine,  no  matter  how  assid- 
uous the  attentions  of  Mabel's  lover,  she  would 
not  persist  after  this  evening  in  what  had  been 
a  childish  mistake  on  the  part  of  both. 

He  could  scarcely  wait  as  he  walked  up  and 
down  the  living-room  of  their  apartment  for 
Mabel  to  come  upstairs.  Her  lover  had  de- 
tained her  in  the  ill-lighted  entrance  for  a  last 
word,  and  to  Victor  the  few  minutes  stretched 
to  an  hour. 

At  last  he  heard  her  light  step  ascending;  but 
too  slowly  for  his  mood.  Mabel  looked  up  and 
saw  him  on  the  landing  in  the  feeble  light  of  the 
one  gas-jet,  and  very  slender  and  handsome  he 
looked  by  contrast  to  the  middle-aged  figure 
which  had  just  closed  the  door  behind  him. 

"Dear  old  girl!"  exclaimed  the  young  fellow 
between  his  teeth.  "  I  'd  have  come  down  after 
you  in  another  minute."  He  hurried  her  inside 
the  familiar  walls.  "Have  you  been  telling  him 
it 'sail  off?" 

Mabel  smiled  into  his  shining,  questioning 
eyes  as  she  removed  her  hat.  "  It  was  a  villain- 
ous evening,  was  n't  it?" 

27 


The  Right  Track 


"Well,  did  you  tell  him?"  Victor  shook  her 
arm  in  his  impatience. 

"Certainly  not.  I  don't  believe  it  would  do 
any  good  if  I  did.  I  believe  he  is  capable  of  the 
young  Lochinvar  act,  using  the  motor  instead 
of  a  horse,  of  course." 

"Mabel  Ford,  sit  down,"  —  the  speaker 
forced  his  sister  into  a  chair  as  he  spoke. 
"We've  both  made  a  beastly  mistake.  If  this 
experience  has  n't  helped  you  to  see  it,  then  I 


must.' 


Mabel  submitted  to  be  seated  and  drove  her 
hat-pin  in  and  out  of  the  ragged  arm  of  her 
chair. 

"Oh,  he  felt  very  sorry  things  hadn't  been 
pleasanter,"  she  answered.  "He  just  said  so, 
and  he  begged  me  to  overlook  the  shortcomings 
of  the  children.  He  said  they  had  been  sys- 
tematically spoiled  for  five  years  and  he  had 
been  helpless  to  prevent  it;  but  everything 
would  be  different  now." 

"Everything  won't  be  different  now,"  re- 
sponded Victor  hotly.  "Not  through  you.  I 
won't  allow  it.  We  can  be  happy,  Mabel." 
He  looked  down  at  the  broad  braid  of  her  dark 
hair  as  he  spoke  appealingly.  "We  shall  be  free 
to  go  and  come,  and  I  '11  devote  myself  to  you." 

28 


The  Interlopers 


She  lifted  her  drooping  head  and  looked  up 
at  his  flashing  eyes  with  a  faint  smile.  "We 
can't  afford  to  go,"  she  said;  "and  if  you  lose 
your  only  client,  very  soon  we  can't  afford  to 


come." 


"I  won't  lose  him.  Jim  Barnes  is  a  good 
fellow.  I'll  tell  him  the  whole  thing." 

"What  whole  thing  ?  I  'm  sure  this  evening  has 
resulted  in  no  concealments.  I  told  him  just 
now  that  I  thought  I  had  made  a  mistake.  I 
can  see  that  I  am  letting  myself  in  for  a  lot 
that's  disagreeable.  So  it  was  easy  to  be  honest. 
I  told  him  that  I  was  n't  naturally  a  loving  sort 
of  person  or  adaptable,  and  that  I  really  felt 
he  would  be  giving  me  everything  and  I  giving 
him  very  little;  but  he  would  n't  listen." 

"Well,  he  shall  listen,"  retorted  Victor 
fiercely.  "You  are  giving  him  everything:  your 
self-respect,  Mabel,  your  self-respect." 

"I  don't  see  that.  I've  always  thought  that 
marriage  should  be  a  reasonable  partnership. 
You  've  said  yourself  that  Mr.  Barnes's  life  was 
an  open  sheet;  that  every  man  you  knew  spoke 
well  of  him.  The  way  he  leaned  over  the  boy 
to-night  and  kissed  him  in  his  sleep  when  we 
went  into  the  nursery  was  very  nice  indeed.  I 
envied  him  wanting  to  do  it.  He  asked  me  to 

29 


The  Right  Track 


kiss  the  child;  but  I  could  n't  have  kissed  that 
monkey  for  forty  limousines." 

"How  could  you  refuse?" 

"Oh,  it  was  easy.  I  simply  said  that  it  would 
be  taking  an  unfair  advantage." 

"You're  clever,"  declared  Victor  gloomily; 
"but  you  can't  go  on,"  he  continued,  with 
rising  wrath. 

"I've  made  up  my  mind,  Victor." 

"Then  I  '11  unmake  it."  The  speaker  clinched 
his  fists.  "I  have  something  to  tell  you  about 
Elaine." 

"What  a  beautiful  dress  that  was  she  wore," 
said  Mabel  calmly,  "and  what  a  relief  it  was 
when  her  father  persuaded  her  to  sit  down  at 
the  piano.  She  plays  remarkably  well." 

"Damn  her  playing!"  exploded  Victor,  and 
Mabel  raised  her  eyebrows  and  stared  at  him. 
The  whole  key  of  their  household  had  been  low 
and  gentle  for  the  sake  of  the  invalid.  She  had 
never  seen  her  brother  so  excited.  "Listen  to 
this,"  he  went  on.  "It  was  just  before  Mr. 
Barnes  brought  you  downstairs  to  come  away. 
Miss  Barnes  was  standing  there  enduring  me 
with  that  white-paper  face  of  hers  when  all  of  a 
sudden  she  said:  'Your  sister  looks  like  a  girl 
who  is  strong  and  well.'  'She  is,'  I  replied;  and 

30 


The  Interlopers 


just  then  you  and  Mr.  Barnes  appeared  at  the 
head  of  the  stairs.  She  glanced  up  at  you;  then 
back  straight  at  me  with  those  blue  marbles  of 
eyes.  'I  should  suppose  she  would  rather  work,' 
she  added  calmly." 

Victor  strode  up  and  down  the  brief  limits  of 
the  room  and  a  slow  color  rose  and  flooded  his 
sister's  face.  She  did  not  move,  but  the  restless 
hand  making  reckless  holes  with  the  hat-pin 
became  still. 

"And,  by  Jove,  you  should,  Mabel!"  ex- 
claimed Victor,  coming  to  a  standstill  before 
her.  "Now,  then!" 

He  waited  for  the  storm.  None  broke.  Mabel 
met  his  dilated  eyes.  "I  think  this  is  work," 
she  replied  calmly;  "hard  work.  Perhaps  I 
shan't  do  it  well.  I  fancy  I  'm  not  fitted  for  it." 

"You're  not,  Mabel.  The  woman  that  goes 
into  that  home  should  have  by  nature  such  a 
flood  of  the  milk  of  human  kindness  that  every- 
body in  the  house  would  wade  in  it,  up  to  his 
knees,  every  time  he  made  a  move." 

Mabel's  gaze  grew  thoughtful.  "I  believe 
you're  exactly  right,"  she  said.  "It's  wonder- 
ful for  you  to  think  that  out." 

Victor  met  her  hopefully.  "You're  a  brick, 
Mabel,  and  all  that;  but  there  is  n't  any  gush 


The  Right  Track 


to  you.  You  're  a  —  a  —  I  hate  to  say  it,  but  in 
that  household  you  'd  be  a  —  a  cold  proposi- 
tion. Don't  you  think  so  yourself?" 

Mabel  nodded  slowly.  "The  trouble  is,"  she 
answered  after  a  silence,  "that  Mr.  Barnes 
won't  listen  to  it.  He  says  Elaine  will  be  gone, 
and  Miss  Pinkerton  will  take  full  charge  of 
Junior  and —  Oh,  Victor,"  in  a  burst  of  frank- 
ness, "  I  'd  hate  to  give  it  all  up,  and  settle  down 
again  to  —  this!"  She  plucked  scornfully  at 
the  ragged  chair-arm. 

"Then  Elaine  has  a  perfect  right  to  her  con- 
tempt," returned  the  brother,  hot  again.  "She 
knows  that  you  and  her  father  have  scarcely 
become  acquainted;  and  she  knows  you're  not 
in  love  with  him." 

"And  he  knows  it,"  answered  Mabel  per- 
suasively. "There's  no  deceit  anywhere.  I'm 
twenty-eight,  Victor.  I  know  my  own  mind." 

He  sank  into  the  chair  and  dropped  his  face 
in  his  hands.  "And  you  haven't  any  heart," 
he  said  with  a  groan  of  discouragement. 

He  was  near  and  she  leaned  forward,  resting 
her  hand  on  his  shoulder. 

"It's  too  much  for  you  to  ask  me  to  give  it 
up,"  she  said  with  feeling.  "You  were  willing 
enough  yesterday.  What  has  happened? 

32 


The  Interlopers 


Nothing  but  the  temper  of  two  jealous  children. 
Trust  me,  dear  old  boy.  We  '11  both  be  happier 
than  we  would  be,  disappointing  Mr.  Barnes  so 
frightfully.  He  said  he  would  have  given  half 
his  kingdom  to  have  secured  us  a  pleasanter 
evening.  He  shouldn't  be  punished,  should 
he?" 

She  waited  a  moment;  but  no  reply  or  move- 
ment came  from  her  brother. 

"I'll  be  able  to  do  a  lot  for  you,  Victor,"  she 
added,  rather  timidly. 

Now  he  looked  up.  "Do  you  suppose  I  shall 
ever  go  into  that  house  again?"  he  demanded. 
"You  have  been  insulted." 

"Not  unless  I  think  so,"  replied  Mabel 
quietly.  "That  ill-bred  little  chit  can't  insult 
me.  Have  a  talk  with  Mr.  Barnes  about  it,  if 
you  like.  You'll  find  there  are  two  ways  to 
look  at  the  circumstances;  but  my  advice 
would  be  not  to  stir  up  the  father  against  the 
child  any  further.  He  is  sufficiently  displeased 
with  her  already." 

Silence  again,  while  Victor  gazed  moodily  at 
the  faded  rug. 

"This  will  mean  a  lot  to  you  in  a  business 
way,  Victor,"  pursued  Mabel.  "Mr.  Barnes 
says  so." 

33 


The  Right  Track 


"He's  lavish  with  his  bait,  anyway,"  sneered 
her  brother.  "All  I  want  is  for  you  not  to  be 
miserable.  It  is  n't  too  late  to  throw  up  the 
whole  thing;  and  my  advice  is  for  you  to  do  it." 

His  sister,  watching  alertly  for  a  sign  in  her 
favor,  thought  she  perceived  a  weakening. 

"Don't  I  know  you'd  do  anything  for  me 
you  could?  Go  to  bed  and  sleep  on  this.  If 
you  want  to  talk  to  Mr.  Barnes  in  the  morning 
and  forbid  the  banns,  go  ahead  and  do  it." 

Victor  looked  into  his  sister's  eyes  with  a 
straightforward,  manly  regard. 

"If  you'll  back  me,  I  will  do  it;  but  if  you're 
against  me,  I'm  not  such  a  fool." 

Mabel  rose  with  a  smile.  "  I  am  against  you, 
Victor.  I  am  strong  and  well  as  Elaine  Barnes 
said;  strong  enough  to  go  through  with  it." 

Then  as  her  brother  rose,  and  looked  at  her, 
speechless,  she  took  hold  of  the  lapel  of  his  coat 
and  continued  softly:  "Elaine  goes  to  school 
next  week.  He  wants  to  be  married  quietly  the 
day  after.  He  wants  to  give  me  a  beautiful 
gown,  worthy,  he  says,  of  —  oh,  no  matter  —  a 
beautiful  gown,  all  white." 

Victor's  face  flushed.  "He'll  not  give  you  a 
gown  till  you  belong  to  him." 

"But,  Victor,"  Mabel's  voice  was  very 
34 


The  Interlopers 


gentle,  "you  can't  blame  him  for  not  wanting 
me  to  be  in  black  at  my  wedding." 

"All  right."  Victor's  hurt  made  his  voice 
rough.  "  Sell  out  everything  here.  I  don't  care 
what  you  do.  We'd  boil  down  to  a  few  dollars, 
I  suppose,  and  get  yourself  a  white  dress." 

Then  Mabel  used  the  little  phrase  which 
from  all  time  has  given  the  masculine  heart  an 
impulse  toward  living  up  to  expectations.  Her 
voice  was  grateful. 

"You're  always  so  good  to  me,  Victor." 


CHAPTER  III 

CAMILLA   LOVETT 

SPRING  in  Brierly.  Forty  miles  away  in  his 
office  James  Barnes  considered  the  fact  with 
some  sentiment  when  occasionally  a  balmy 
breath  of  air  strayed  in  at  his  window;  but  there 
was  little  sentiment  over  April  at  the  parsonage 
where  Charity,  better  known  as  Cherry, 
Shanklin,  shivered  in  the  back  yard  while  she 
helped  her  brother  Cyrus  plant  their  little  gar- 
den. They  did  intensive  farming,  although  they 
did  n't  call  it  that.  Beside  the  house  a  small 
orchard  of  apple  trees  grew  as  they  listed,  with 
gnarled  trunks  as  deeply  lined  as  the  unsmiling 
countenance  of  the  minister.  The  front  yard 
of  the  white  house  was  shaded  with  two  good 
maple  trees,  and  some  flowering  shrubs  were 
budding  hardily  in  the  April  sunshine.  Charity 
bordered  her  garden  path  with  pinks  and  pan- 
sies  and  sweet  alyssum  and  had  sweet  peas 
climbing  about  the  porch  when  June  came,  but 
now  a  reminder  of  snow  was  still  in  the  air  and 
she  pulled  her  woolen  sontag  closer  around  her 

36 


Camilla  Lovett 


as  she  stood  in  the  wind,  consulting  with  her 
brother  as  to  the  best  disposition  of  their  bit 
of  fertilized  ground. 

Cyrus  Shanklin  had  filled  the  pulpit  at 
Brierly  for  thirty  years.  His  short  gray  beard, 
deeply  lined  cheeks  and  hollow  eyes  rising  above 
the  great  church  Bible  were  a  solemn  reminder 
to  every  child  in  Brierly  of  the  necessity  of 
decorum  in  the  sanctuary.  His  sister's  attitude 
toward  him,  although  she  was  his  junior  by  a 
decade,  was  that  of  protection  and  a  sort  of 
habitual  compassion.  As  they  stood  there  dis- 
cussing lettuce,  beets,  and  parsnips,  the  dis- 
similarity of  their  features  was  apparent.  The 
long  nose,  the  high  forehead,  and  the  gray  eyes 
of  the  man  spoke  resignation;  while  his  sister's 
plump,  round  countenance  and  sharp  little 
eyes  expressed  enterprise.  Not  even  the  steady 
daily  pressure  of  her  brother's  patient  discour- 
agement had  been  able  to  break  the  spring  of 
Charity's  interest  in  life,  although  she  had  not 
escaped  a  tinge  of  pessimism,  and  her  tongue 
commanded  fear  as  well  as  respect. 

"Do  come  into  the  house,  Cyrus,"  she  said  at 
last.  "We've  been  at  it  for  two  hours.  That's 
enough."  She  pointed  her  adjuration  with  a 
sneeze  and  hurried  up  the  path  toward  her 

37 


The  Right  Track 


warm  kitchen.  There  she  washed  her  hands 
and  looked  into  a  small  mirror  hanging  over  the 
table  to  smooth  back  the  very  few  hairs  which 
were  able  to  make  their  escape  from  a  coiffure 
which  was  strictly  utilitarian  and  as  firm  and 
thorough  as  all  of  Charity's  undertakings. 

There  was  still  an  hour  before  dinner  and 
there  were  napkins  to  be  hemmed;  so  Miss 
Shanklin  repaired  to  the  dining-room  and  pulled 
her  work-basket  toward  her  favorite  rocking- 
chair  by  the  window.  This  window  was  one  of 
the  "village  watch-towers"  which  keep  one  in 
touch  with  life.  Owing  to  a  little  jut  in  the 
architecture  of  the  white  house,  it  commanded  a 
view  of  the  street,  and  Charity  ruthlessly  cut 
away  branches  of  the  lilac  bush  which  would 
have  hidden  her  gate.  She  had  sat  there  but  a 
few  minutes  and  gone  across  but  half  one  side  of 
a  napkin  when  her  eyes,  frequently  up-glancing, 
caught  sight  of  a  short  figure  on  the  walk. 

"Why,  that  steps  like  — ,"  she  said  aloud 
and  laid  down  the  napkin,  looking  over  the  tops 
of  her  steel-bowed  spectacles ;  "  it  surely  does  — 
but  it  can't  be  — "  The  short  figure  stopped  at 
the  gate,  opened  it,  came  in  and  started  up  the 
garden  path.  "  It  is  Camilla  Lovett ! "  exclaimed 
Miss  Shanklin,  not  joyously,  but  with  some 

38 


Camilla  Lovett 


excitement.  She  jumped  up  and  hurried  out 
on  the  side  porch. 

"Camilla!"  she  called,  and  the  visitor  aban- 
doned the  path  to  the  front  door  and  came 
around  toward  the  porch.  Her  step  was  long 
and  her  head  held  erect  in  the  manner  of  those 
on  whom  nature  has  laid  a  burden.  The  folds 
of  her  coat  at  the  back  hung  over  a  slight  pro- 
tuberance between  the  shoulders;  but  that  same 
nature  had  given  her  the  wavy  hair  and  sound 
teeth  which  made  the  little  woman's  face 
pleasant  to  look  upon  as  she  smiled  now  at  her 
hostess. 

"I  declare,"  thought  Miss  Shanklin,  "I 
never  saw  Camilla  look  so  kind  o'  pretty." 

"Where  in  the  world  did  you  spring  from?" 
she  asked,  holding  out  her  hand. 

"New  York,"  returned  Camilla,  coming  up 
the  steps.  "You  knew,  didn't  you,  that  I'd 
been  there  the  last  year?" 

"I  heard  so.  Come  in,  come  in,"  said  Charity 
heartily,  her  hospitality  spurred  by  lively  curi- 
osity. "You  must  stay  to  dinner  with  us." 

"Oh,  I  didn't  come  just  at  dinner-time, 
did  I,  Cherry?"  The  question  was  put  with 
apology. 

"No,  not  for  an  hour  yet;  but  I've  got  pork 
39 


The  Right  Track 


and  beans  and  brown  bread,  and  I  remember 
you  like  'em  even  though  they  do  fight  you." 

As  she  spoke  Charity  led  the  way  into  the 
house  and  helped  the  visitor  off  with  her  coat 
and  hat  and  Camilla  looked  about  reminiscently. 
"Is  that  the  very  same  scarlet  geranium?"  she 
asked. 

"Yes,  or  its  sister;  I  don't  remember.  Get 
out  o'  that  chair,  Daisy."  As  she  spoke  the 
hostess  brushed  away  a  black  cat  with  a  white 
nose  and  a  soft  bunch  of  white  under  her  chin, 
who  was  using  the  second-best  chair  in  the 
room. 

"New  York's  done  real  well  by  you, 
Camilla,"  said  Charity,  looking  her  guest  over 
from  head  to  foot.  "You're  so  spruced  up  I'd 
hardly  know  you.  You  look  in  good  keeping, 
too.  You  used  to  be  so  sallow  with  that  dys- 
pepsia of  yours." 

"I  was,  that's  so,"  agreed  Camilla.  "To-day 
you'll  see  the  brown  bread  has  more  cause  to 
be  afraid  of  me."  She  took  the  rocking-chair 
offered  by  her  hostess. 

"That's  the  very  place  you  sat  the  last  time 
I  saw  you,"  said  Charity,  taking  the  seat  va- 
cated by  Daisy,  who  was  giving  her  aggrieved 
glances  and  meditating  her  lap  as  a  haven. 

40 


Camilla  Lovett 


"Get  out,  get  out,"  she  said  abstractedly,  push- 
ing her  pet  away  as  it  came  near. 

"You  were  hemming  napkins,"  said  Camilla, 
looking  at  the  fallen  work.  "Give  me  one  and 
let's  go  on." 

"After  dinner,  maybe,"  said  Charity.  "I 
want  to  talk  now.  You  were  sitting  right  in 
that  chair,  putting  the  braid  on  my  black  silk 
skirt  the  last  time  I  saw  you.  I  remember, 
because  you  were  coming  next  day  to  do  a  lot 
of  stitching  for  me  on  the  machine,  and  you 


never  came." 


Camilla  smiled  into  the  sharp  little  eyes  and 
shook  her  head.  "No,  I  Ve  come  now  to  apolo- 
gize." 

"Are  you  at  Mrs.  Emerson's  again?  She  was 
the  one  that  told  me  you  got  a  letter  that  hur- 
ried you  off  to  New  York.  I  expected  to  hear 
from  you,  but  I  never  did.  I  used  to  say  to 
Cyrus,  if  it  was  anybody  but  Camilla,  she'd 
write  and  explain;  but  Cyrus  never  would  let 
me  blame  you  for  your  disposition.  You  don't 
mind  my  speaking  plainly,  Camilla.  He  said 
the  hand  o'  the  Lord  had  been  laid  heavy  on 
you  and  't  was  human  to  rebel.  You  do  look 
so  kind  o'  different  that  I  can  see  you're  hap- 
pier and  better  off.  Ain't  it  a  wonder  that  the 

41 


The  Right  Track 


color  of  a  body's  skin  can  change  'em  so?  Oh, 
these  stomachs!  You  can  sympathize  with 
Cyrus.  There's  so  many  things  he  can't  eat,  it 
makes  it  awful  hard  to  cook  for  him.  Well,  now 
tell  me  all  about  it." 

Miss  Shanklin  leaned  back  in  her  chair  and 
rocked  furiously  in  anticipation  of  the  sating 
of  her  curiosity. 

"I  was  pretty  cross-grained,  was  n't  I?"  said 
Camilla  with  pensive  eyes. 

"I  should  say  so.  If  I  wanted  a  collar  made 
bias,  I  used  to  ask  you  if  you  didn't  think 
'twould  fit  better  on  the  straight;  then  I  got 
it  just  the  way  I  wanted  it." 

"Poor  little  Camilla,"  said  the  visitor,  smil- 
ing tenderly  as  if  to  herself. 

"Jim  Barnes  was  out  here  a  few  weeks  ago 
and  was  askin'  about  all  the  neighbors  and  he 
asked  about  you;  asked  if  you  was  just  as  even- 
tempered  as  ever,  —  mad  all  the  time.  You 
know  Jim  will  have  his  joke;  he  remembered 
the  way  you  used  to  snap  him  up;  but  he  was 
just  like  Cyrus ;  said  it  was  n't  any  fault  o' 
yours.  He  said  when  English  folks  wanted  to 
describe  an  ugly-tempered  person,  they  said  he 
had  a  hump.  Of  course,  you  have  n't  got  a  — 
so  to  say  a  real  hump,  Camilla,"  the  addition 

42 


Camilla  Lovett 


was  made  as  the  hostess  saw  color  come  up 
in  the  delicate  cheeks.  "You're  just  kind  o' 
high  on  the  shoulder-blades;  but  everybody 
felt  't  was  enough  to  make  you  sort  o'  crotch- 
ety." 

"It  did  make  me  crotchety,"  returned 
Camilla  quietly;  "so  crotchety  that  I  became 
dyspeptic." 

"Oh,  no;  that  was  sittin'  so  much,  sewing," 
declared  Charity;  "but  never  mind.  That 
has  n't  anything  to  do  with  your  going  to  New 
York." 

"Perhaps  it  had,"  said  the  visitor.  "You'd 
never  guess  what  it  was  that  made  me  more 
irritable  and  disagreeable  with  every  year  that 
passed." 

"Why,  dyspepsia,  of  course.  You  were  awful 
careless  about  your  pepsin  and  you  kept  gettin* 
worse;  and  then  your  back — I  expect  it  was 
achin'  lots  o'  times  when  you  jawed  folks." 
Charity  spoke  with  reasonable  sympathy  and 
her  flying  rockers  made  Daisy  beat  a  retreat. 

"The  ache  was  in  here,"  Camilla  pressed  her 
hand  on  her  heart  and  met  her  hostess's  eyes 
full.  "  It  came  over  me  slowly  that  I  should  n't 
ever  marry." 

"Law!  That  ain't  anything."  Charity's 
43 


The  Right  Track 


amazement  was  mingled  with  resentment. 
"Look  at  me.  I  ain't  married;  but  I  don't  bite 
folks's  heads  off  just  for  that."  Then,  curiosity 
submerging  resentment,  "Who'd  you  want  to 
marry,  Camilla?  Since  you've  said  that  much 
you  might  as  well  make  a  clean  breast  of  it. 
'T  won't  go  any  further." 

"It  wasn't  anybody  in  particular,"  replied 
the  visitor  simply.  "I  just  wanted  a  baby." 

Miss  Shanklin's  rocking-chair  came  to  a  stand- 
still with  such  suddenness  that  nothing  but  the 
weight  of  her  own  plump,  comfortable  uphol- 
stery kept  her  from  being  thrown  out. 

"Camilla  Lovett,  how  you  talk!"  she  ejacu- 
lated. 

Camilla  nodded  slowly  and  even  in  the  chaos 
of  Miss  Shanklin's  shocked  sensibilities  she  was 
struck  by  the  sweet  expression  in  her  visitor's 
steady  eyes. 

"Yes,  I  was  hungry,  hungry  for  a  child;  and 
I  grew  very  angry  with  a  God  who  would  put 
such  a  hunger  in  my  heart  and  then  put  the 
heart  into  an  unlovely  body." 

"Why,  Camilla,"  gasped  Miss  Shanklin.  "I 
should  think  you'd  have  expected  a  thunder- 
bolt!" 

"  I  did  n't  care.  I  was  wretched  and  reckless 
44 


Camilla  Loveti 


and  miserable  and  sick  when  the  letter  arrived 
from  New  York  from  a  distant  relative  who 
had  n't  seen  me  for  years.  She  asked  me  if  I 
could  come  and  take  care  of  her  house  and  her 
two-year-old  baby  while  she  and  her  husband 
went  away  for  a  long  trip  which  the  doctor  had 
prescribed.  I  did  n't  stop  to  think  or  plan.  I 
packed  in  the  night  and  left  in  the  morning; 
left  to  get  my  arms  around  that  girl  baby;  a 
baby  that  was  to  be  all  mine  for  a  little  while; 
a  baby  that  would  n't  care  how  I  looked." 

"Well!"  exclaimed  Charity  with  a  long 
breath.  "Mrs.  Emerson  did  tell  the  truth,  then. 
She  said  you  went  to  be  a  housekeeper.  You  Ve 
stayed  there  the  whole  year?" 

"Yes." 

"It's  agreed  with  you  something  wonderful. 
You'regoin'back?" 

"No.  My  relatives  have  returned,  the  baby's 
mother  strong  and  well.  They  don't  need 


me." 


"But  ain't  you  goin'  to  be  awful  homesick  for 
that  baby?" 

Sudden  dew  sparkled  in  the  visitor's  brown 
eyes  and  they  smiled  through  it.  She  nodded, 
speechless. 

"But  you  ain't  mad  about  it,  Camilla." 
45 


The  Right  Track 


Charity's  tone  was  wondering.  "That  change 
was  just  what  you  needed,  surely.  What  you 
goin'  to  do  now?" 

"I  don't  know." 

"Goin'  to  stay  in  Brierly?  Goin'  to  sew 
again,  Camilla?" 

"I  can't  say  yet.  I  have  a  feeling,  though, 
that  I  'm  not.  The  last  year  has  been  wonderful 
in  so  many  ways,  Cherry."  The  speaker  re- 
garded the  round  face  of  her  companion,  still 
flushed  with  surprise,  as  if  doubtful  how  much 
to  say  to  her.  "It  has  taught  me,"  she  added, 
"to  leave  the  old  Camilla  behind." 

"You  do  look  as  if  you  'd  shed  your  old  skin," 
said  Miss  Shanklin,  "and  I  can  see  you've 
come  where  you  're  willin'  to  bow  to  the  decrees 
o'  Providence;  and  so  you  don't  know  what  you 
are  goin'  to  do?"  pursued  Charity. 

"No;  but  as  you  just  said,  I  shall  abide  by 
the  decree  of  Providence.  God  will  show  me 
what  to  do." 

Miss  Shanklin  had  begun  to  rock  again,  the 
conversation  having  veered  to  familiar  ground. 
Now  she  stopped.  Such  an  expression  from 
Camilla  Lovett  was  more  surprising  than  her 
fair  complexion  and  clear,  contented  eyes. 

"So  you  got  religion  in  New  York,"  she  said; 
46 


Camilla  Lovett 


then  added  with  a  curious  resentment:  "Brierly 
religion  was  n't  good  enough  for  you,  it  seems." 

Camilla  smiled  at  the  flushing  face.  "You 
talked  very  plainly  to  me  a  few  minutes  ago, 
Cherry,"  she  replied;  "so  you  won't  mind  if  I 
say  that  religion  in  Brierly  never  seemed  a  very 
happy  thing." 

"It's  gay  in  New  York,  I  suppose,"  said 
Charity  acidly;  "gay  like  everything  else." 

"It's  happy,"  returned  her  friend,  "in  some 
places  —  the  places  where  I  got  it."  Then,  after 
the  silence  that  followed,  she  added  softly: 
"You  remember  you  told  me  once  that  your 
good  brother  sometimes  had  wakeful  nights, 
fearing  he  might  not  be  one  of  the  elect." 

Charity  rocked  fast  again.  She  did  not  know 
exactly  how  to  reply.  Camilla  had  no  business 
to  remember  a  thing  like  that.  Her  brother's 
lined  face,  hollow-cheeked,  hollow-eyed,  appear- 
ing above  the  pulpit,  rose  before  her  mental 
vision.  It  symbolized  a  religion  which  this  visi- 
tor had  renounced.  Religion  in  Charity's  own 
experience  had  been  a  commodity  the  reverse  of 
lucrative,  which  must  be  purveyed  once  a  week 
and  patiently  and  discreetly  handled.  It  in- 
volved much  doing-up  of  linen  and  brushing  of 
old  coats  and  untiring  ingenuity  in  making  both 

47 


The  Right  Track 


ends  meet;  but  it  was  the  religion  of  her  fathers, 
and  that  Cyrus  could  n't  take  it  as  philosophi- 
cally as  she  did  was  his  misfortune. 

"My  brother  is  good,"  she  said  shortly,  — 
"as  good  a  man  as  ever  lived." 

"He  is,  I'm  sure,"  agreed  Camilla;  then  will- 
ing to  make  a  diversion  she  continued:  "You 
said  Jim  Barnes  was  out  here.  How  is  he  look- 
ing?" 

"Well,  he's  like  everybody  else:  he  don't 
grow  any  younger.  Still  he  looks  in  good  keep- 
ing in  spite  of  his  wife." 

"What  do  you  mean  by  that?" 

"Oh,  he  didn't  say  much,  but  I've  heard. 
She  't  was  Hetty  Landor,  —  you  remember 
Hetty;  well,  she  married  a  good-for-nothin' 
clerk  in  the  city  and  she 's  had  to  go  to  sewin' ; 
and  she 's  been  doing  mendin'  and  such-like  for 
the  new  Mrs.  Barnes.  She  came  out  here  lately 
and  told  me  about  it.  Says  she's  awful  high- 
headed  and  absent-minded,  and  don't  know  nor 
care  how  the  house  runs.  Just  reads  from  morn- 
in'  till  night.  Don't  it  beat  all  how  one  man's 
meat  is  another  man's  poison  ?  Jim 's  got  a  little 
boy  five  or  six  years  old,  and  Hetty  says  she 
feels  to  pity  that  child." 

Camilla  leaned  forward  in  her  chair. 


Camilla  Lovett 


"  I  knew  Jim  had  a  daughter.  I  never  heard 
of  the  little  one." 

"Law,  yes.  You  did  know  that  he  came  be- 
fore he  was  invited  and  'twas  his  birth  took 
Lucy  Barnes  away.  You've  forgotten.  Lucy 
was  a  real  loss  to  Jim.  She  was  my  cousin,  you 
know,  and  as  sensible  as  they  make  'em.  Jim's 
done  just  what  fool  men  usually  do,  married  a 
woman  half  his  age,  and  he  7s  reap  in'  the  conse- 
quences. Hetty  said  there  did  n't  seem  to  be 
any  men  around  the  new  wife  except  her 
brother,  but  that'll  probably  come  later." 

"Oh,  Cherry,  don't  talk  that  way!" 

"Now,  why  could  n't  he  have  married  —  say 
you,  for  instance,"  went  on  Charity.  "Then 
he'd  'a'  had  a  mother  for  his  children  worth 
talkin'  about.  When  a  man  marries  the  second 
time,  it  ought  to  be  for  his  children's  sake,  not 
his  own." 

"Can't  the  daughter  be  a  help?"  asked 
Camilla.  "Seems  to  me  Ellen  must  be  nearly 
grown  up." 

"Ellen!"  Miss  Shanklin  paused  in  her  rock- 
ing just  long  enough  to  purse  her  lips.  "I  had 
Ellen  here  with  me  all  through  July  —  for  my 
sins,  I  guess.  Jim  just  swears  by  Brierly  and  he 
thought  'twould  do  his  dear  little  girl  good!" 

49 


The  Right  Track 


Pen  cannot  describe  the  satirical  tone  of  this 
declaration. 

"I  'm  sorry  if  she  disappointed  you,"  said  the 
guest. 

"That  girl,  Camilla  Lovett!  Well!  I  think 
with  her  and  the  hifalutin  wife,  Jim  Barnes's 
collection  is  just  about  complete.  She's  the 
most  air-y  individual  that  ever  looked  in  the 
glass.  In  the  first  place,  you  must  n't  say  Ellen 
any  more.  Dear  me,  no!  She  calls  herself 
Elaine ! — Elaine,  mind  you ! '  Cousin  Cherry,' ' 
Charity  imitated  a  most  affected  drawl, " '  would 
you  mind  letting  me  have  my  breakfast  in  bed  ? 
Father  wishes  it!'" 

The  speaker  drew  herself  up  for  her  drama- 
tization, and  then  rocked  to  the  limit  as  she 
proceeded :  — 

"'The  cat's  foot  and  the  kitten's  elbow!'  I 
says  to  her.  '  You  don't  need  your  breakfast  in 
bed  any  more'n  I  do.  When  you're  sick,  I'll 
take  care  of  you.  You  ain't  sick  now;  you're 
just  pale  from  bein'  shut  up  in  the  house  and 
schoolrooms.  What  you  need's  exercise.'  'I 
believe  I'll  get  a  horse,'  says  Ellen;  'I've  been 
to  ridin'-school.'  'Well,  get  a  horse,'  says  I, 
'and  ride  up  to  Elm  Farm  every  day.  Your 
father  sets  store  by  every  leaf  and  twig  on  that 

50 


Camilla  Lovett 


old  place.  The  folks  there  won't  mind  you.  I  '11 
tell  'em  you're  harmless.  Go  up  there  and  ride 
around  and  write  your  father  how  things  look.' 
—  Oh,  well,"  Charity  sighed,  "we  got  through 
with  it  somehow.  Ellen  was  a  kind  o'  nice  little 
girl.  I  used  to  like  her  when  she  came  here  with 
her  mother." 

"But  can't  she  take  care  of  that  little  bro- 
ther?" asked  Camilla,  in  whose  mother-heart 
rankled  the  reference  to  the  small  boy. 

"Law,  no.  She  went  to  New  York  to  school, 
time  her  father  was  married.  A  pity  she  could 
n't  find  some  o'  your  religion  there!"  finished 
Charity  tartly. 

"I  wish  she  could,  poor  child,"  returned 
Camilla. 

"No;  James  Junior's  kind  o'  lost  in  the 
shuffle,  from  what  Hetty  says.  There  was  a 
woman  there  takin'  care  of  him  the  time  o'  the 
weddin'  and  I  s'pose  she'd  pretty  well  run 
things  and  didn't  like  the  reins  bein'  taken 
away.  There  was  some  kind  of  a  tussle  and  she 
left  soon  after  the  marriage,  and  there's  been 
a  procession  of  women  since,  all  sizes  and  ages, 
but  nobody  stays  very  long.  Little  Jim's  an 
awful  disagreeable  child,  Hetty  says;  kind  o' 
sickly  and  cross,  and  Mrs.  B.  has  her  nose  in  a 


The  Right  Track 


book  all  the  time;  you  can  just  imagine  the 
way  things  go." 

"And  did  n't  Jim  speak  to  you  of  his  troubles 
when  he  was  here?" 

"Not  a  word.  Of  course  I  asked  after  his 
wife  and  he  said  she  was  very  well;  but  his 
errand  in  Brierly  seemed  to  be  to  look  at  the 
farm  again.  Never  saw  anything  like  the  way 
that  busy,  rich  man  clings  to  that  old  place 
where  he  used  to  go  coastin'.  Seems  if  he  must 
see  it  once  in  so  often." 

"How  strange  that  Mrs.  Barnes  did  n't  come 
with  him." 

"He  said  he  tried  to  get  her  to,  but  that  day 
there  was  a  meetin'  of  one  of  her  clubs  and  she 
could  n't  come  very  well.  You  see!" 

"I'm  sorry,"  said  Camilla,  and  her  brown 
eyes  seemed  to  gaze  far  away. 

"Say,  Camilla,"  said  Charity  suddenly,  "I 
wonder  if  you  would  be  so  good  as  to  look  over 
my  old  suit  and  see  if  you  think  the  sleeves  could 
be  changed  to  be  something  like  yours.  Yours 
are  so  pretty;  just  as  pretty  as  they  can  be." 

"I'd  be  glad  to,"  replied  the  visitor,  and 
Charity  rose  with  alacrity  and  led  the  way  into 
her  bedroom. 


CHAPTER  IV 

IN   THE   OFFICE 

JAMES  BARNES  was  in  his  private  office  in  a 
quiet  part  of  the  day.  On  his  desk  stood  the 
picture  of  a  handsome  woman,  a  broad  dark 
braid  of  hair  crowning  her  head  above  the  low 
broad  forehead.  There  was  a  good  space  be- 
tween this  picture  and  two  other  photographs 
in  a  folding  leather  case,  which  he  suddenly 
took  down  for  closer  inspection.  There  were 
lines  in  his  forehead  as  he  gazed.  The  young 
girl  in  the  white  gown  he  passed  over  lightly; 
but  his  eyes  fixed  on  the  picture  of  the  small  boy 
sitting  on  one  leg  with  the  other  foot  dangling 
in  front  of  him.  Mr.  Barnes  studied  the  face 
and  the  plump  legs.  The  stricture  in  his  breast 
brought  a  deeper  frown. 

"He's  running  down.  The  boy  's  runn  ng 
down,"  he  muttered.  "There  is  n't  a  doubi  of 
it." 

The  photographer  had  evidently  succeeded 
in  showing  some  object  which  won  approval 
from  the  child,  for  the  face  wore  an  expression 
of  interest  which  for  some  reason  brought 

53 


The  Right  Track 


a   stinging    sensation    to    the    grain   dealer's 
eyelids. 

He  recalled  the  petulant  little  voice  that 
greeted  him  at  night,  and  remembered  how  list- 
less  had  been  the  reception  of  the  mechanical 
toy  he  had  carried  home  last  evening. 

"A  man's  a  clumsy  brute,"  he  said  to  him- 
self, swallowing  the  obstruction  in  his  throat; 
then  he  muttered  above  his  breath  to  the  eyes 
looking  at  him:  "I'd  give  all  I've  got  to  buy 
you  what  you  need,  little  chap;  but  I  can't  get 
a  line  on  it.  And  if  I  could,  money  won't  buy 
it  even  if  it's  on  earth;  and  I  guess  it  is  n't.  I 
guess  all  our  share  is  in  the  burying-ground  at 
Brierly.  My  little  boy!"  The  eyelids  stung 
afresh  and  the  grain  dealer  pressed  the  top  of 
the  leather  case  he  held  against  them. 

A  knock  sounded  on  the  door.  He  hurriedly 
replaced  the  photographs  on  top  of  the  desk, 
and  was  blowing  his  nose  when  Victor  Ford 
entered  the  room. 

The  young  lawyer's  appearance  indicated 
that  the  past  nine  months  had  seen  him  ascend 
several  rungs  of  the  business  ladder. 

"Busy,  Mr.  Barnes?"  he  asked,  pulling  a 
bunch  of  papers  out  of  his  pocket  as  he  ad- 
vanced alertly. 

S4 


In  the  Office 


At  the  same  moment  the  grain  dealer  drew 
lome  papers  toward  himself  from  the  back  of 
his  desk.  "Very,"  he  replied  gruffly,  without 
turning  around. 

The  young  man  stopped,  uncertainly.  He 
and  his  mature  brother-in-law  were  excellent 
friends.  "Anything  wrong?"  he  asked. 

"I've  got  a  cold.  I  should  think  you  could 
see  that."  Mr.  Barnes  blew  his  nose  again. 
"Lovely  spring  usually  brings  us  a  little  souve- 
nir of  that  kind,  you  know.  What  do  you  want, 
Ford?" 

He  had  himself  in  hand  now  and  looked  up 
into  the  face  of  the  young  man  standing  by  his 
desk. 

"Why,  I'd  like  to  know  what's  troubling 
you,  if  you're  willing  to  tell  me,"  returned 
Victor  frankly.  The  undercurrent  of  anxiety 
which  had  disturbed  him  throughout  the  winter 
bubbled  up. 

"You're  a  mind  reader,  eh?  Well,  I  don't 
mind  telling  you.  I've  been  feeling  worried 
about  Junior  lately.  Sit  down."  Victor  obeyed. 
"You've  been  seeing  the  youngster  at  least 
once  a  week  all  winter.  I  'm  interested  to  know 
if  you  notice  a  sort  of  —  a  sort  of  —  well,  de- 
cline in  him,  you  might  say." 

55 


The  Right  Track 


Relief  soothed  Victor's  fear.  If  it  was  only 
Junior! 

"Why,  I  can't  say  I  have  noticed  anything 
like  that,  Mr.  Barnes.  Are  n't  children  always 
pale  when  they're  growing?" 

"Are  they?  I  suppose  they  are.  We  lost  two 
children  between  Elaine  and  Junior.  I  guess 
I'm  pretty  nervous." 

"Is  Mabel  worried  about  him?" 

At  the  question  Mr.  Barnes  turned  away  and 
picked  up  a  paper-knife.  "No,  oh,  no;  I  don't 
think  Mabel  is  worried  about  him." 

"Of  course,  Mabel  does  n't  know  much  about 
children,"  said  Ford,  the  creeping  anxiety  mov- 
ing again  in  his  depths. 

"No,"  replied  Mr.  Barnes,  "  and  we  have  n't 
been  fortunate  in  finding  the  right  person  to 
take  care  of  the  boy.  There  has  been  an  as- 
sortment of  women  since  Miss  Pinkerton  left, 
and  I  don't  like  the  present  incumbent  at  all. 
She  seems  a  sly,  flattering  sort  to  me;  but 
Mabel  likes  her  better  than  any  one  we've 
had  and  thinks  we'd  better  let  well  enough 
alone." 

"I'm  sorry,"  said  Victor  gravely.  The  two 
pairs  of  eyes  met,  and  glanced  away  again  sud- 
denly. 

56 


In  the  Office 


Presently  Victor  looked  back  at  his  compan- 
ion. 

"I'm  more  than  sorry,"  he  blurted  out, 
speaking  quickly;  "sorry  my  sister  isn't  a 
better  housekeeper,  a  better  mother,  a  better 
home-maker.  I  have  eyes  and  I  must  say  it 
once." 

The  lines  of  the  older  man's  face  changed  and 
his  eyes,  gazing  into  Victor's,  turned  cold. 

"If  you  ever  say  it  again,  or  anything  ap- 
proaching it,  our  relations  cease.  Do  you 
understand  ? " 

"Yes  —  I  —  yes,"  stammered  Ford. 

"The  beam  in  your  own  eye,  young  man, 
requires  some  attention,"  went  on  Mr.  Barnes, 
without  giving  the  other  time  to  recover  from 
his  embarrassment.  "I  have  no  jurisdiction 
over  you,  but  I  'm  your  friend  and  I  simply  tell 
you  that  you  're  making  the  first  moves  on  one 
of  the  slipperiest  toboggan  slides  on  the  planet." 

Victor  grew  scarlet,  and  looked  with  appre- 
hension into  his  brother-in-law's  face. 

"  I  have  n't  tried  to  keep  tabs  on  you  in  any 
way,  but  it  has  come  to  me  straight  —  the  sup- 
pers at  Florios's  and  the  games  at  Baxter's. 
I've  been  able  to  give  you  a  lift.  Is  this  what 
you're  going  to  do  with  it?" 

57 


The  Right  Track 


Victor  rose  and  paced  the  floor  in  silence. 

"I  suppose  I  know  your  circumstances  pretty 
well,  and  the  very  fact  that  you  can  visit  those 
places  a  second  time  shows  me  that  you  are 
playing  in  luck,  as  they  say;  though  the  devil 
knows  worse  luck  never  befell  a  man." 

The  young  lawyer  was  very  white  as  he  sud- 
denly paused  again  by  the  desk  and  met  the 
cool  gray  eyes. 

"Have  you  told  my  sister?"  he  asked. 

Mr.  Barnes,  leaning  back  in  his  chair,  re- 
turned his  gaze  for  a  silent  moment. 

"That's  a  fool  question,  boy,"  he  replied  at 
last  quietly;  "but  your  sister  has  told  me  much 
that  throws  light  on  your  actions." 

Victor  wondered  what  was  to  come. 

"She  has  told  me  of  all  the  pinching  and 
sacrifice;  of  your  pluck  and  self-denial.  There 
need  n't  have  been  any  reaction.  Some  fellows 
similarly  placed  have  the  stamina  to  keep  on 
climbing.  You  weren't  that  sort.  You  find 
yourself  for  the  first  time  without  saddle  or  bri- 
dle or  burden;  with  no  sense  of  responsibility; 
and  you're  scampering  and  kicking  up  your 
heels  in  the  green  fields  adjoining  the  path  of 
duty  in  which  you've  been  held  till  now;  and 
you  think  you're  having  a  good  time  because 


In  the  Office 


you're  calling  it  freedom.  'T  is  n't  freedom, 
though.  It's  slavery." 

Mr.  Barnes's  dry  voice  paused  a  moment, 
then  went  on.  "I  like  you,  Victor,  and  I'm 
telling  you.  That's  all." 

Color  surged  high  again  in  the  young  lawyer's 
face.  He  started  to  speak,  but  apparently  could 
not.  Just  as  he  was  moving  toward  the  door, 
uncertain  whether  he  was  most  angry  or  most 
ashamed,  a  knock  sounded  again,  and  at  once 
Mr.  Barnes's  stenographer  entered  the  room. 
She  was  bringing  a  card. 

Her  employer  waved  her  away.  "  I  'm  busy," 
he  said;  "I  can't  see  anybody." 

"I  told  her  that,  sir,  and  I  asked  her  her 
business,  but  she  said  it  was  only  to  see  you  and 
she  insisted  on  my  bringing  in  the  card." 

"  Send  her  away.  Don't  you  know  better  by 
this  time  than  to  bother  me  with  agents  or  beg- 
gars in  business  hours?" 

The  stenographer  lifted  her  head.  "I  do," 
she  returned,  much  injured.  "She  isn't  a 
beggar  nor  an  agent.  They  don't  usually  write, 
*  For  Auld  Lang  Syne '  on  their  cards,  I  believe." 

James  Barnes  took  the  rejected  pasteboard 
and  looked  at  it. 

He  gave  an  exclamation.  "Watch  the  clock, 
59 


The  Right  Track 


please,  Miss  Perkins,  and  send  her  in  here  in 
five  minutes,"  he  said.  "You  did  quite  right." 

Miss  Perkins's  backbone  was  extremely  rigid 
as  she  left  the  room.  As  the  door  closed,  her 
employer  rose.  "You  remember  my  speaking 
to  you  of  Brierly,  Ford?  This  woman  who  is 
calling  on  me  is  Brierly's  prize  sour  ball, 
Camilla  Lovett.  I  heard  she  was  in  New  York, 
not  in  our  town.  Well,  poor  little  thing!  per- 
haps counter-irritants  are  good  things.  Any- 
way, she  knows  Brierly,  and  it  '11  be  a  diversion 
to  hear  her  beat  up  the  inhabitants." 

"Then  I'll  leave  you  to  your  diversion,  Mr. 
Barnes,"  said  Victor. 

"Like  to  have  you  meet  her,"  returned  the 
grain  dealer. 

"Thank  you,  I  feel  that  I  don't  require  her 
specialty  just  at  present,"  said  Victor  stiffly; 
and  then  the  door  opened  and  Miss  Perkins 
ushered  in  the  visitor. 

Victor  glanced  at  her,  and  even  in  his  dis- 
turbance felt  some  surprise  at  the  childlike 
stature  of  such  a  fierce  character.  But  he  suc- 
ceeded in  slipping  away  while  Camilla  looked 
about,  a  little  awed  by  what  to  her  inexperience 
seemed  the  pomp  and  circumstance  surround- 
ing her  old  friend.  She  felt  relieved  when  he 

60 


In  the  Office 


met  her  with  a  kindly  hand-shake,  for  which 
Miss  Perkins's  manner  had  not  prepared  her. 

"Well,  well,  Camilla!"  exclaimed  Mr. 
Barnes.  "I  call  it  pretty  nice  of  you  to  look 
me  up." 

There  had  been  a  thought  at  the  back  of  the 
man's  mind  that  the  little  woman  was  probably 
in  financial  straits  and  that  she  had  come  to 
him  in  need;  but  her  appearance  seemed  to  dis- 
prove this. 

"All  right,  Miss  Perkins,"  he  said  with  a 
careless  nod  to  the  stiff-necked  young  woman 
who  lingered  with  some  curiosity  concealed 
beneath  her  dutiful  exterior.  She  withdrew, 
closing  the  door,  and  Mr.  Barnes  placed  a  chair 
for  Camilla  by  the  desk  and  took  his  accus- 
tomed place. 

"You've  deserted  Brierly,  they  tell  me,"  he 
went  on,  looking  into  the  pleasant  face,  pri- 
vately a  little  amused  at  the  company  manners 
it  could  assume. 

"No,  not  deserted  it,  Mr.  Barnes." 

"Mr.  Barnes!"  he  repeated  scornfully.  "It 
didn't  use  to  be  'Mr.  Barnes'  when  I  took 
you  on  my  sled." 

Camilla  looked  around,  still  with  some  rem- 
nants of  awe. 

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The  Right  Track 


"These  walls,"  she  said,  "look  as  if  they 
would  be  horrified  to  hear  me  call  you  Jim." 

"Do  'em  good  to  get  a  jolt,"  returned  the 
host.  He  shook  his  head  thoughtfully.  "Pre- 
cious few  folks  to  call  me  Jim  nowadays.  I 
have  to  go  back  to  Brierly  for  that.  You  mean 
Brierly  to  me,  Camilla."  They  looked  at  one 
another;  each  viewing  the  change  in  the  other 
in  the  last  decade. 

"Not  such  a  thorny  brier  as  I  used  to  be, 
I  hope,"  she  said,  smiling. 

"By  jingo,  is  it  those  silver  threads  in  your 
hair  that  are  so  becoming?  You're  growing 
handsome,  Camilla.  Went  to  a  beauty  doctor 
in  New  York,  I  guess.  Tess  up  now;  I  know 
you  did." 

"Why,  of  course,"  she  laughed.  "I  could  n't 
miss  such  an  opportunity." 

"What  else  did  you  do?  What  took  you  off 
from  home  between  two  days?" 

"Oh,  I  didn't  have  a  home,  you  know.  I 
was  just  on  sufferance;  Mrs.  Emerson  was  very 
kind  and  all  that;  but  I  was  a  free  lance  and  I 
got  a  call  to  go,  and  I  fled.  You  see,  we  lonely 
folks,  we  run  around  the  world  sort  of  wistful, 
like  little  stray  dogs,  longing  to  belong  some- 
where and  to  somebody.  Well,  I  had  a  chance 

62 


In  the  Office 


to  belong  to  a  baby  for  a  whole  year.  Her  par- 
ents had  to  go  away.  It  was  wonderful !  but "  — 
Camilla  smiled  and  sighed  —  "they  returned; 
so  back  I  came." 

"Poor  youngster!"  thought  James  Barnes. 
"That  sure  was  heroic  treatment  for  the  baby, 
warranted  to  kill  or  cure.  Camilla  on  a  tirade! 
Stand  from  under." 

"You  enjoyed  it,  eh?"  he  asked  aloud.  Then, 
with  secret  humor:  "How's  the  baby?" 

"She's  —  she's  too  sweet  to  talk  about," 
returned  the  visitor,  and  her  eyes  glistened  sud- 
denly. "I  can't  talk  about  her,  Jim.  I'm  too 
silly." 

"Well,  well,"  thought  the  grain  dealer,  watch- 
ing the  April  face;  "this  looks  a  lot  like  the 
taming  of  the  shrew." 

"When  have  you  been  to  Brierly?" 

"Nearly  a  month  ago.  I  had  dinner  with 
Cherry  and  Mr.  Shanklin." 

"I  suppose  it  made  you  feel  as  if  you  had  n't 
been  away  at  all." 

"No,"  Camilla  shook  her  head.  "Nothing 
can  do  that.  I  lived  in  a  nightmare  all  my  life 
till  last  April,  Jim.  A  bad  dream,  full  of  ugly 
shapes,  poverty,  and  sickness,  and  hunger  for 
things  I  couldn't  have;  and,  spreading  its 

63 


The  Right  Track 


wings  over  all  like  a  big  bat,  was  fear."  Camilla 
shook  her  head.  "  I  tell  you,  Jim,  it's  wonderful 
to  wake  up." 

Mr.  Barnes  regarded  the  expressive  face  whose 
liquid  eyes  deepened  to  wells  of  light  as  she 
spoke,  and  curiosity  and  interest  filled  him. 

"I'd  like  to  see  that  baby,"  he  remarked. 
"It  ought  to  be  carried  through  the  streets  like 
that  bambino  over  there  in  Italy." 

"That's  enough  about  me,"  she  returned. 
"Tell  me  about  yourself." 

"  I  'm  the  same  old  humdrum,  Camilla.  Still 
scratching  gravel  to  find  the  grains  of  wheat." 

"I  hear  you  have  a  beautiful  wife." 

"Yes,  I  want  to  have  you  meet  Mabel  if 
you're  going  to  stay  in  town.  What  are  you 
going  to  do  next?  Have  you  a  position 
here?" 

"No.  I  'm  after  one,  to  tell  the  truth.  I  don't 
much  care  to  go  back  to  sewing  in  Brierly.  My 
baby's  parents  gave  me  a  generous  present 
which  gives  me  time  to  look  around,  and  I 
thought  perhaps  you'd  be  willing  to  be  my 
reference  if  I  found  something  in  the  city. 
Cherry  says  Ellen  is  away  at  school." 

"Yes.  I  must  tell  you.  The  little  minx  has 
turned  against  her  homespun  name,  and  I  guess 


In  the  Office 


she'd  been  reading  Tennyson  a  good  deal.  At 
any  rate,  she's  Elaine  now.  Why  not?  There 
is  n't  any  too  much  fun  in  this  old  world,  and  if 
she  wants  to  masquerade  as  the  lily  maid  of 
Astolat,  let  her.  Was  n't  Elaine  the  lily  maid 
of  Astolat,  Camilla?" 

"I  don't  know,  Jim." 

"Well,  mine's  a  lily  maid  all  right,  poor  little 
pale  thing.  If  New  York  will  only  do  as  much 
for  her  as  it  has  for  you,  I  '11  toss  up  my  hat. 
Send  her  the  address  of  your  beauty  doctor, 
will  you,  Camilla?" 

The  visitor,  her  head  dropped  to  one  side, 
returned  his  twinkling  gaze  wistfully. 

"Gladly,"  she  said. 

"Oh,  no,  I  forgot.  It  was  the  baby."  The 
speaker  sighed  unconsciously.  "Elaine  isn't 
very  handy  with  babies." 

"How's  yours,  Jim?"  asked  Camilla  quietly. 
"Getting  to  be  a  big  boy,  I  suppose." 

A  cloud  fell  over  the  host's  face.  He  turned 
to  the  desk,  and  taking  down  the  photograph 
case  handed  it  to  her.  "There  are  my  jewels," 
he  said. 

"Oh,  yes,  I  can  see  Ellen's  little-girl  looks 
still,"  said  the  visitor,  "and  that's  your  fine 
boy.  How  he  looks  like  Lucy." 

65 


The  Right  Track 


"Yes,  he  does.  He  —  he  —  Junior  isn't  as 
husky  as  I  'd  like  to  see  him." 

"He's  James  Second,  is  he?"  asked  Camilla, 
still  with  her  eyes  on  the  picture  and  a  prayer 
in  her  heart.  The  relaxing  of  her  old  friend's 
face  and  the  change  in  his  eyes  when  she  asked 
for  the  baby  had  not  escaped  her,  looking,  as 
she  was,  for  a  sign.  "And  that  lovely  lady,"  she 
said,  nodding  her  head  toward  the  other  photo- 
graph. 

"Yes,  this  is  Mrs.  Barnes."  The  speaker 
handed  the  picture  to  Camilla,  who  studied  the 
low,  broad  forehead,  the  regular  features,  and 
the  smoothly  braided  hair. 

"You  must  meet  her,  Camilla.  You  must  go 
home  with  me  to  dinner  to-night.  Why  not? 
I  shall  be  ready  to  go  in  fifteen  minutes.  You 
have  n't  any  engagement,  I  hope." 

"None." 

"Good.  I  suppose  you  did  n't  go  up  to  the 
farm  if  you  were  only  a  short  time  in  the  vil- 
lage." 

"No.  Cherry  told  me,  though,  that  it  is  to 
be  sold.  Mr.  Metcalf  is  ill  and  the  doctors  are 
sending  them  to  California.  They  have  n't  the 
money  to  go  and  must  get  it  out  of  the  farm." 

"So?"  James  Barnes  leaned  forward  eagerly, 
66 


In  the  Office 


his  hands  on  his  knees.  "I've  been  waiting  to 
be  pushed  over  the  brink.  I'm  crazy  for  the 
old  place  myself.  Do  you  suppose  this  is  my 
shove,  Camilla?" 

The  visitor  smiled.  "You'll  be  shown,  Jim. 
Did  you  ever  think  how  much  life  seems  to  be 
like  that  game  of  magic  music  we  used  to  play 
when  we  were  children?  We  came  into  the 
room,  just  as  we  come  into  the  world,  not 
knowing  what  we  were  meant  to  do;  and  some 
one  sits  at  the  piano  and  plays;  the  music  is  soft 
when  you're  going  in  the  wrong  direction,  but 
increasingly  loud  and  encouraging  when  you're 
headed  right.  We  have  the  great  Musician  to 
listen  to,  Jim." 

She  caught  her  lower  lip  between  her  teeth 
and  watched  him,  and  he  watched  her,  with  the 
old  amused  look  of  surprise  and  interest. 

"What  a  baby  that  must  have  been!"  he 
said  at  last. 

"And  if  it  were  the  baby,"  she  replied,  "is  n't 
it  written:  'And  a  little  child  shall  lead  them'?" 


CHAPTER  V 

MADEMOISELLE 

VICTOR  FORD  went  straight  from  his  brother- 
in-law's  office  to  his  sister's  home.  He  had  a 
latch-key,  and  the  very  fact  gave  him  an  added 
sense  of  unworthiness  as  he  fitted  it  into  the 
door.  He  was  still  smarting;  but  the  little  key 
seemed  at  that  moment  a  symbol  of  all  the 
confidence  and  kindness  shown  him  in  the  last 
nine  months  by  his  brother-in-law. 

Mabel  was  seldom  at  home  in  the  daytime. 
That  he  knew;  and  he  wondered  suddenly  what 
his  errand  here  was.  The  vague  dissatisfaction 
with  his  sister  which  had  been  deepening  all 
winter  had  been  bringing  him  slowly  to  the 
point  where  he  felt  he  must  try  to  formulate 
her  sins  of  omission  and  commission,  and  face 
her  with  them;  but  James  Barnes  had  dashed 
his  worthy  intent  with  a  surprising  bucket  of 
cold  water;  and  now  why  was  he  calling  on 
Mabel  at  this  hour  of  the  day?  He  certainly 
was  not  going  to  dine  at  the  table  of  the  man 
who  had  given  him  the  recent  rebuke.  It  was 

68 


Mademoiselle 


doubtful  if  he  ever  dined  there  again.  Barnes 
must  take  his  chances  with  the  unsuitable  wife 
he  had  been  determined  to  possess.  Victor 
reflected  with  some  consolation  that  he  would 
henceforth  be  on  formal  terms  only  with  this 
household.  To  be  sure!  That  was  what  he  had 
come  for:  to  return  the  latch-key  to  Mabel. 

On  entering  the  dim  hall,  a  woman  passing 
through  paused,  and  turned. 

"Oh,  it  is  not  Monsieur,"  she  said  respect- 
fully. "ItisMeesterFord." 

"Yes.  Is  Mrs.  Barnes  at  home?"  asked 
Victor.  His  tone  was  in  rough  contrast  to  the 
Frenchwoman's  ingratiating  manner.  He  re- 
membered his  brother-in-law's  comments  upon 
her. 

"Yes.  I  tell  Madame.  Meester  Ford  will 
wait  in  the  salon?" 

"No,  not  if  she's  dressed.  I  '11  come  right  up." 

"Vair  well,  Meester  Ford.  Madame  ees  in 
her  atelier" 

Victor  took  the  stairs  two  at  a  time  and  the 
Frenchwoman  looked  after  him  with  a  little 
frown  before  she  proceeded  on  her  way  to  order 
Junior's  supper.  "He  is  handsome.  He  might 
be  gentil;  but  he  is  one  beast,"  was  her  com- 
ment. 

69 


The  Right  Track 


Victor  knocked  at  a  closed  door  and,  receiv- 
ing a  summons,  walked  in. 

"You,  Victor?"  exclaimed  Mabel.  "I 
thought  you  had  deserted  us." 

She  looked  up  from  the  depths  of  her  arm- 
chair, but  did  not  rise.  The  ashes  of  a  dead  fire 
lay  on  the  untidy  hearth.  Shelves  of  books  ran 
along  the  sides  of  the  room  whose  furniture  was 
sparse  and  expensive.  The  large  table  was  lit- 
tered with  books;  the  open  desk  with  papers. 
Victor's  eyes,  glancing  around  the  room  dis- 
approvingly, came  to  rest  on  his  sister. 

She  had  evidently  just  come  in,  for  her  hat 
and  coat  were  on  a  chair  and  her  hat-pins  had 
pulled  her  hair  awry. 

Her  brother  approached  and  touched  her  up- 
lifted face  with  his  lips. 

"  I  don't  believe  you  Ve  consulted  the  mirror 
since  you  came  in,"  he  said. 

"You  can  see  there  is  n't  one  if  you  look 
about,"  she  answered,  smiling.  "Am  I  such  a 
fright?"  She  put  her  hands  to  her  hair  and 
endeavored  to  pat  it  into  place.  "We  had  such 
a  long  session  at  the  club  to-day,  and  being 
secretary,  of  course  I  had  to  stay  to  the  end. 
I'm  tired  to  death."  But  as  she  made  the  dec- 
laration Mabel  met  his  eyes  smilingly.  Her 

70 


Mademoiselle 


brother  had  longed  to  see  her  happy.  He  knew 
now  that  she  was  so. 

"I  was  just  wondering,"  she  went  on, 
"whether  I  had  energy  enough  to  change  my 
dress  for  dinner.  Now  your  coming  has  decided 
the  matter.  I'll  visit  with  you  instead  and 
you'll  stay  to  dinner." 

"I  wouldn't  dine  with  you  looking  that 
way,"  he  returned,  taking  the  chair  nearest 
her.  She  looked  up,  wondering  at  his  ill-tem- 
per. 

"Many  and  many  a  time,"  she  said,  "you've 
dined  with  me  looking  a  great  deal  worse.  This 
suit  was  made  by  one  of  the  most  expensive 
people  in  town." 

"Times  have  changed,"  said  Victor.  "You 
owe  something  to  your  husband." 

"I  owe  him  everything,"  returned  Mabel 
equably. 

"How  do  you  pay?"  asked  Victor,  and  his 
gaze  was  so  accusing  that  his  sister  paused  a 
moment,  and  in  the  pause  there  came  a  blow 
on  the  door;  it  flew  open  and  in  rushed  a  small 
boy,  red  in  the  face  with  fury. 

"I  hate  her,  and  I'll  kick  her,"  he  roared, 
running  to  Mabel  and  giving  her  a  blow  on  the 
arm  for  good  measure. 


The  Right  Track 


"Junior,  what  is  the  matter!"  exclaimed  his 
stepmother,  shaking  him  angrily.  The  French- 
woman came  in  panting  with  haste. 

"Oh,  Madame,  it  is  a  shame  to  trouble 
Madame!" 

"Here,  here,  son,"  said  Victor  as  he  saw  his 
sister  in  danger  from  a  pair  of  small  patent 
leather  pumps.  He  seized  the  child,  and  held 
him  struggling  between  his  knees  while  Mabel 
rubbed  her  assaulted  arm. 

"A  shame,  a  shame,"  went  on  the  French- 
woman shrilly.  "That  cook,  she  is  a  devil, 
Madame.  She  give  Junior  patisserie  all  I  can 
say.  I  find  heem  there  now,  eating  —  eating. 
When  he  have  those  migraine  in  the  night  I 
cannot  sleep."  The  woman's  black  eyes  flashed 
arrows  at  the  child,  who  kicked  impotently  at 
her,  sobbing  with  rage;  and  in  the  midst  of  the 
noise  and  conflict  in  walked  Mr.  Barnes  and 
Camilla  Lovett. 

"What's  all  this?"  asked  the  master  of  the 
house,  and  Victor  loosed  the  struggling  boy, 
who  ran  to  his  father  and  was  clasped,  trem- 
bling, in  his  arms. 

Mabel  rose.  "  I  wish  you  came  in  oftener  to 
see  what  I  go  through  with  that  child,"  she 
said  coldly.  "Mademoiselle  found  him  eating 

72 


Mademoiselle 


pastry  in  the  kitchen  and  because  she  took  him 
away,  this  results." 

Mabel's  eyes  were  fixed  upon  the  visitor  who 
stood  waiting.  Her  anger  was  not  lessened  by 
this  informal  ushering  of  a  stranger  into  their 
circle  at  an  inopportune  moment. 

"You  must  pardon  me,  dear,  for  bringing  an 
old  friend  right  upstairs,"  said  her  husband. 
"This  is  Miss  Camilla  Lovett  from  Brierly,  :anc 
I  was  so  pleased  to  see  her,  I  brought  her  home^  ^ 
to  finish  our  talk  and  have  some  dinner  with    ^ 
us.   Hush,  son."   All  through  this  speech  Mr. 
Barnes  was  patting  the  frail,  panting  little 
figure  who  still  emitted  sobs. 

"How  do  you  do,  Miss  Lovett?"  The  hostess 
stepped  forward  and  shook  hands  with  the  little 
woman  whose  face  expressed  peace  in  the  dis- 
cordant room. 

"  I  'm  sorry  to  have  come  in  just  as  your  little 
boy  was  in  trouble,"  said  Camilla. 

Junior,  hearing  the  strange  voice  and  being 
nervous  to  the  verge  of  hysteria,  lifted  his  head 
with  his  eyes  shut,  and  shouted  in  her  direction: 
"Shut  up!" 

"It  serves  James  exactly  right,"  thought 
Mabel,  standing  straight  and  helpless  in  the 
emergency. 

73 


The  Right  Track 


"Mechant  fils!"  hissed  the  Frenchwoman, 
approaching  the  father  and  trying  to  take  the 
child  from  his  arms. 

Junior's    strength    was    exhausted.        Mr. 

Barnes  saw  that  his  wife  either  did  not  incline 

~>r  else  did  not  know  how  to  make  the  situation 

j  's  embarrassing  for  the  visitor,  so  he  loosed 

)  .  clinging  arms. 

j    "Mademoiselle  will  bring  you  to  us  at  des- 
^sert,"  he  said  to  the  child. 

"That  is  my  good  boy,"  coaxed  the  French- 
woman. "We  have  toast  and  honey  for  him. 
Now,  come  away."  She  succeeded  in  getting 
possession  of  her  charge  and  Mabel's  brow 
cleared. 

"I'm  in  disgrace,  too,  Mademoiselle,"  she 
said.  "Why  did  n't  you  make  me  dress  for 
dinner?  My  brother  is  displeased  at  my  appear- 


ance." 


"Ah,  Monsieur,"  returned  Mademoiselle 
smoothly,  while  Junior  eyed  the  quiet  little 
stranger-woman  under  swollen  eyelids.  "Ma- 
dame is  all  for  the  brain,  all  for  the  brain.  She 
care  nossing  for  her  beauty." 

Then  Junior's  little  thin  legs  moved  wearily 
away  beside  her  out  into  the  hall  and  the  door 
closed  behind  them. 

74 


Mademoiselle 


Mabel  toyed  with  a  book  on  the  table  and 
half-smiled  as  if  pleased.  Victor  saw  the  com- 
pression of  the  husband's  lips.  He  put  aside  the 
remembrance  of  his  own  stings  in  the  hot  impa- 
tience he  felt  with  his  sister. 

"Miss  Lovett,"  he  said,  approaching  with  his 
best  manner,  "  I  think  Mr.  Barnes  believes  that 
we  have  met.  I  am  Mrs.  Barnes's  brother, 
Victor  Ford.  I  was  in  his  office  when  you  called 
this  afternoon  and  left  just  as  you  came  in. 
May  I  take  your  wrap?" 

"Camilla  may  like  to  go  to  your  room, 
Mabel,"  said  Mr.  Barnes. 

The  hostess  came  out  of  her  trance.  "Oh, 
certainly,  Miss —  Miss — " 

"Lovett,"  said  James  Barnes. 

"Right  in  here,  Miss  Lovett,"  said  Mabel, 
picking  up  her  own  hat  and  coat. 

Her  husband  held  open  the  door  which  led  to 
his  wife's  bedroom. 

"  I  have  n't  an  idea  what  we  're  going  to 
have  for  dinner,"  said  Mabel  lightly;  "but  I 
have  a  very  reliable  woman  in  my  kitchen. 
She's  always  sure  to  treat  us  sufficiently 
well." 

The  door  clicked.  Victor  Ford  picked  up  his 
own  hat  and  coat  and  started  for  the  hall.  His 

75 


The  Right  Track 


brother-in-law  apparently  did  not  comprehend 
his  movement. 

"That's  no  sort  of  treatment,  you  can  see," 
he  said,  pacing  the  floor. 

Victor  paused.  His  heart  felt  sore;  but  he 
endeavored  to  keep  all  feeling  out  of  his  voice. 

"Mabel  knows  nothing  of  Miss  Lovett,  I 
suppose.  She  might  as  well  have  fallen  from 
the  clouds." 

"  I  don't  mean  that.  I  mean  Junior.  He  was 
nervous  enough  before;  but  this  woman  has  a 
bad  influence  on  him.  I  trust  her  less  and  less. 
I  Ve  tried  already  to  get  Mabel  to  dismiss  her, 
but  the  poor  girl  has  been  through  so  much  with 
helpers — ' 

"And,"  said  Victor,  looking  his  companion 
hardily  in  the  face,  "we  can't  always  employ  a 
flatterer,  you  know." 

Mr.  Barnes  met  his  look,  paused  a  moment, 
then  paced  on. 

"We  all  like  flattery,"  he  said  simply. 

"We  vary  in  the  amount  we  can  swallow  at  a 
gulp.  The  woman  has  found  Mabel's  weakest 
spot.  If  she  has  any  beauty,  it  is  certainly 
nothing  to  her." 

"  She  leaves  that  to  me,"  responded  the  hus- 
band. 


Mademoiselle 


Victor  glared  at  him  once  more;  then  with  a 
curt  "Good-bye"  he  turned  to  the  door. 

"I'd  like  you  to  stay  to  dinner  if  you're  not 
engaged,"  said  Mr.  Barnes  quietly. 

Victor  paused  without  turning  back. 

"I  have  a  hunch,"  continued  his  host,  "that 
we  're  not  going  to  be  a  very  congenial  triangle. 
I  wish  you  'd  stay  and  talk  to  Mabel  and  give 
me  a  chance  at  Brierly." 

"All  right,"  said  Victor  briefly,  and  threw 
down  his  burden. 

Mabel's  good  humor  continued  throughout 
the  dinner.  She  occasionally  gave  significant 
glances  of  amusement  at  her  brother  as  her 
husband  indulged  in  reminiscence  with  his 
humble  little  friend  of  long  ago.  James  was 
hopelessly  democratic;  that  she  already  knew, 
and  she  was  no  climber  except  mentally.  She 
had  learned  to  listen  leniently  to  tales  of  Bri- 
erly and  had  frequently  promised  to  visit 
the  scene  of  her  husband's  boyhood;  but  when- 
ever James  Barnes  saw  a  loophole  of  leisure 
through  which  he  could  step  for  a  day,  his 
wife  had  some  engagement  too  important  to 
be  broken. 

Mabel  found  her  brother  rather  subdued,  but 
sufficiently  responsive  to  her  accounts  of  a  great 

77 


The  Right  Track 


actress  at  present  interpreting  Ibsen  plays  in 
the  metropolis;  and  she  was  deploring  his  pref- 
erence for  musical  comedy  when  the  dessert 
was  brought  in. 

Simultaneously  another  door  opened  and  the 
heir  of  the  house  in  clean  blouse  and  diminutive 
velvet  trousers  entered  the  dining-room.  His 
somber  white  face  turned  at  once  toward  Ca- 
milla. 

"There  now!"  exclaimed  his  father  brightly. 
"This  is  more  like  it.  Here's  my  boy.  I  did  n't 
know  that  cry-baby  upstairs."  He  held  out  his 
arms  and  Junior  approached  him  slowly,  his 
eyes  still  gazing,  fascinated,  at  Camilla,  who 
regarded  him,  smiling.  All  through  the  meal 
her  thoughts  had  turned  to  the  child,  and  her 
heart  had  ached  for  him.  The  woman  who  stood 
in  his  mother's  place  was  a  marvel  to  her. 
Mabel  had  evidently  thrown  off  the  recent  scene 
with  an  ease  which  indicated  its  frequency.  She 
could  discuss  Ibsen  plays  with  heat,  while  this 
little  soul  took  and  gave  his  wounds  abovestairs 
unheeded.  As  Camilla  regarded  the  child  now, 
the  difference  from  his  pictured  face  in  the 
photograph  impressed  her. 

The  music,  the  magic  music  of  love,  which 
had  brought  her  to  the  city  seemed  to  swell  in 

78 


Mademoiselle 


her  ears  as  she  yearned  toward  the  dull  eyes 
that  stared  at  her. 

Junior  yielded  mechanically  as  his  father 
lifted  him  to  a  seat  beside  himself.  Conversa- 
tion about  the  table  ceased  for  the  moment. 

"That  is  Miss  Camilla  Lovett,  little  boy," 
said  Mr.  Barnes. 

"I  know  it,"  replied  Junior,  still  staring. 
"Mam'selle  says  her  name's  Camel  'cause  she's 
got  a  hump." 

There  was  a  moment  of  stupefied  silence. 
Then  Mr.  Barnes  moved  the  child's  chair  back 
from  the  table.  "Go  upstairs,"  he  said,  in  tones 
his  son  had  never  heard  from  him  before. 
Junior  was  too  amazed  to  cry.  He  looked  with 
frightened  eyes  into  his  father's  transformed 
face  and  climbed  down  from  the  chair. 

"Jim !  Jim ! "  said  Camilla  gently.  Her  cheeks 
were  very  red.  "You  know  quite  well  it's  not 
the  child's  fault.  His  place  is  here.  Let  him 
stay." 

"He  shall  not  stay!"  exclaimed  Mabel,  half- 
pushing  her  own  chair  back  from  the  table. 
"Victor,  let  James  stay  with  his  guest.  You 
carry  Junior  upstairs  for  me." 

Victor  rose  from  the  table,  wishing  himself 
a  thousand  miles  away.  Three  pairs  of  eyes 

79 


The  Right  Track 


rested  on  the  culprit  with  such  stony  accusation 
that  the  child  stood  as  if  frozen.  His  legs  trem- 
bled. His  always  jolly  playmate,  Uncle  Victor, 
was  scowling  at  him.  His  father's  face  was  terri- 
ble. His  stepmother  —  but  no  matter  about 
her.  In  all  the  suddenly  silent  and  frowning 
room,  only  one  face  smiled.  One  pair  of  eyes 
beamed  upon  him.  Camilla  held  out  her  hands, 
and  the  trembling  legs  moved  toward  her.  She 
closed  her  arms  about  the  small  figure,  and  laid 
her  cheek  upon  his  head. 

The  music  within  her  swelled  to  divine  har- 
mony. 

"You  did  n't  know  that  was  going  to  sound 
unkind,  did  you,  dear?"  she  whispered. 

She  could  feel  the  child  shaking  and  swallow- 
ing sobs,  and  his  hands  clutched  her.  "Now 
will  you  run  upstairs,"  she  went  on  softly,  "  and 
when  we  're  through  dinner,  may  I  come  up  and 
see  your  toys ?  I  think  they'll  let  me  bring  you 


some  ice-cream. ': 


Junior  could  n't  speak;  and  he  had  not  the 
hardihood  to  take  another  look  at  his  father's 
face. 

For  another  moment  of  silence  he  buried  his 
eyes  against  Camilla's  bosom;  then  suddenly 
pulling  away,  he  dashed  out  of  the  room. 

80 


Mademoiselle 


She  glanced  about  the  table  with  a  smile 
whose  happiness  was  evident.  She  turned  to  the 
host.  "  I  was  just  going  to  tell  you  when  Junior 
came  in  that  they  have  started  to  build  a  trolley 
line  through  Brierly." 

"Has  it  come?"  responded  Mr.  Barnes  with 
the  tone  of  one  who  hears  of  calamity.  "Not 
near  Elm  Farm?" 

"No.  It's  just  a  connecting  link  between  the 
two  main  lines,  and  passes  by  the  town  hall." 

"I  remember  when  that  town  hall  — "  began 
Mr.  Barnes,  and  was  again  talkative. 

Mabel  and  Victor  listened  now;  everybody 
was  grateful  to  be  off  the  rocks  and  launched 
once  more  on  the  safe  sea  of  reminiscence. 


CHAPTER  VI 

IN  THE  NURSERY 

WHEN  dinner  was  over,  Camilla  made  her 
request  to  the  hostess. 

"Ice-cream  for  our  little  scamp?"  asked 
Mabel,  surprised.  "Why,  certainly,  if  you  like, 
Miss  Lovett.  He  deserves  something  far  differ- 
ent." 

"Let  Camilla  do  as  she  pleases,"  said  Mr. 
Barnes.  "She's  nutty  about  babies  and  Junior 
seems  still  young  enough  to  appeal  to  her." 

So  Camilla  started  off  with  her  dish,  Victor 
volunteering  to  show  her  the  way  to  the  nurs- 
ery. 

Mr.  Barnes  let  him  go,  for  he  was  fuming 
within  in  his  haste  to  get  a  word  with  his  wife. 

As  soon  as  they  entered  the  living-room,  still 
as  uncompromisingly  cold,  stiff,  and  unattrac- 
tive as  when  he  had  ushered  Mabel  into  it  for 
the  first  time,  he  turned  to  her.  His  face  again 
fell  into  the  lines  which  had  struck  terror  to  his 
son's  soul. 

"Which  of  us  shall  dismiss  her?"  he  asked 
without  preamble;  "you,  or  I?" 

82 


In  the  Nursery 


"Dismiss  whom?"  asked  Mabel,  gazing  at 
him  in  blank  surprise. 

"That  fool  Mam'selle.  She's  worse  than  a 
fool,  she's  a  knave." 

"Oh,  James,"  protested  Mabel,  "that  was 
unfortunate;  but,  of  course,  Mademoiselle  was 
only  making  a  little  joke,  probably  to  get  Jun- 
ior out  of  his  cross  mood.  She  never  dreamed 
the  child  would  repeat  it." 

"That  mean,  coarse  spirit  shall  not  stay  in 
my  house  another  day,"  was  the  stern  response. 

"Oh,  you  misjudge  her,"  returned  Mabel 
earnestly.  "Mademoiselle  has  beautiful  man- 
ners. She's  a  treasure.  She  is  such  a  help  to 
me  in  my  French;  and  Junior  has  already 
learned  a  number  of  French  words." 

"Unfortunately  he  still  speaks  English," 
said  Mr.  Barnes  dryly.  "We  won't  discuss  this, 
Mabel.  You  may  engage  as  many  outside 
French  teachers  as  you  like.  This  resident 
goes." 

"But  not  at  once,"  protested  Mabel.  "Give 
me  time  to  look  about." 

Her  husband  regarded  her  strangely.  "That 
insult  to  my  old  friend  meant  nothing  to  you, 
then?"  he  said. 

"Why,  I  —  I  — "  hesitated  Mabel  under  his 
83 


The  Right  Track 


cold  gaze  —  "I  was  —  indeed,  it  did  mean 
something.  Did  n't  you  see  how  shocked  I 
was?" 

"But  you'd  leave  my  little  boy  under  that 
influence  still,"  persisted  the  other,  and  his 
wife  grew  warm  and  resentful  at  the  sound  of 
the  possessive  pronoun.  "You  don't  seem  to 
notice  that  the  child  is  running  down  every 
day." 

"No,  I  don't  see  anything  of  the  sort.  That's 
nonsense.  Junior  is  quite  as  well  as  the  average 
growing  child.  They  don't  retain  their  baby 
roundness." 

"It  isn't  only  that  he's  losing  flesh.  It  is 
his  expression:  unhappy,  fretful." 

Mabel  shrugged  her  shoulders.  "  It  is  n't  my 
fault  that  he  has  such  a  disagreeable  disposi- 
tion. He  was  like  that  when  I  first  saw  him. 
You  told  me  when  we  were  married  that  I 
should  have  no  trouble  with  him !  No  trouble ! 
Every  nurse  or  governess  I  have  engaged  has 
assured  me  that  he  is  the  most  impossible  child 
she  ever  saw.  Now  we  have  one  who  is  willing 
to  stay  at  least  and  is  very  advantageous  to  us, 
and  because  the  little  joke  she  made  to  amuse 
the  child  was  in  bad  taste,  you  want  to  throw 
me  into  hot  water  again,  and  lose  her  a  good 


In  the  Nursery 


position.  Who  is  this  Camilla  Lovett  that  she 
should  upset  our  household  arrangements?  " 

Mr.  Barnes's  face  was  grim  and  on  his  brow 
deep  lines  sank  between  the  eyes. 

"She  is  an  old  friend,"  he  answered  slowly, 
"with  a  physical  defect.  She  is  insulted  in  my 
house  - 

"By  the  unconscious  lips  of  a  child,"  inter- 
rupted Mabel. 

"A  child  prompted  by  a  malicious  and  mis- 
chievous woman,"  went  on  her  husband.  "I 
have  felt  it  from  the  first.  I  never  trusted  her, 
and  she  has  been  given  full  charge  of  a  little, 
impressible  mind."  He  paused,  and  swallowed. 
"She  goes  to-night,"  he  finished  briefly. 

"To-night!"  exclaimed  Mabel,  aghast.  "I 
should  think  not.  You  would  n't  turn  her  out 
at  night  with  no  warning,  I  hope." 

"That's  just  what  I'd  do,"  replied  Mr. 
Barnes  quietly.  "That  little  rack  of  bones 
won't  be  bullied  by  her  another  night.  I've 
heard  something  of  the  altercations." 

Angry  tears  sprang  to  Mabel's  eyes ;  but  her 
husband's  look  was  unrelenting  and  she  saw  that 
the  last  straw  had  done  its  traditional  work. 

"Who  will  sleep  in  the  nursery,  then?"  she 
demanded. 

85 


The  Right  Track 


The  steady  gaze  regarding  her  glowed  a  bit. 
"You  might,"  was  the  quiet  reply. 

"I  can't  do  it.  Junior  is  extremely  restless 
and  I  am  very  dependent  on  my  sleep;  to- 
night especially  because  I  have  to  read  a  paper 
to-morrow." 

Mr.  Barnes  surprised  his  wife  very  much  by 
laughing  softly;  and  somehow  the  laugh  sent  a 
hot  flush  down  her  spine. 

"I  don't  know  you  to-night,  James,"  she 
went  on,  her  cheeks  red.  "You're  not  a  bit 
like  yourself.  What's  the  matter  with  you?" 

"I  guess  the  only  matter  is  that  I'm  a  fa- 
ther," he  answered.  "Let  us  go  upstairs." 

"Don't  send  Mademoiselle  away  to-night," 
pleaded  Mabel.  "It's  a  disgrace  to  her,  don't 
you  see?  You  should  think  of  her  side  of  it." 

"Very  well,"  returned  Mr.  Barnes.  "It  is 
something,  doubtless,  to  have  strictly  impartial 
judgment." 

Mabel  did  n't  like  the  sound  of  this,  either; 
but  she  was  relieved  to  get  some  reprieve,  and 
she  followed  her  husband  upstairs,  much  stirred 
within,  and  wishing  devoutly  that  it  had  not 
occurred  to  Camilla  Lovett  to  visit  her  child- 
hood's friend. 

When  they  entered  the  nursery  they  found 
86 


In  the  Nursery 


Junior  in  bed  propped  up  by  pillows  and  luxu- 
riously feeding  himself  with  ice-cream  from  the 
plate  which  Camilla  still  held  as  she  half- 
reclined  beside  him,  on  the  edge  of  the  second 
little  white  enamel  bed. 

Victor  Ford  was  sitting  at  ease  in  a  wicker 
armchair,  and  Mademoiselle  was  folding 
Junior's  clothes  and  arranging  matters  on  the 
dresser,  constantly  flashing  glances  toward  the 
bed. 

As  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Barnes  entered  the  room, 
she  approached. 

"Pardon,  Madame,"  she  said,  with  lifted 
chin,  "but  will  Madame  say  to  the  lady  to  give 
no  more  ice !  It  is  I  who  must  endure  the  night." 

"Not  to-night,"  declared  Mr.  Barnes,  fixing 
the  speaker  so  suddenly  with  his  eyes  that  she 
stood  with  parted  lips.  "Go  ahead,  Camilla," 
he  continued.  "  Ice-cream  won't  hurt  him  a  bit. 
He  looks  as  if  he  needed  about  a  quart.  Is  it 
good,  little  chap?" 

Junior  poised  his  spoon  in  air  at  his  father's 
voice  and  looked  at  him  big -eyed.  Satisfied 
that  he  was  again  in  favor,  he  nodded,  and  pro- 
ceeded with  his  feast. 

Camilla  looked  questioningly  at  Mrs.  Barnes, 
and  started  to  leave  her  perch. 

87 


The  Right  Track 


"Stay  where  you  are,  Camilla,"  commanded 
the  host.  There  seemed  to  him  a  new  warmth 
and  light  in  the  room,  and  again  came  a  stric- 
ture at  his  heart  at  the  smallness  of  the  throat 
down  which  the  cream  was  swallowed,  and  the 
thinness  of  the  little  hand  which  already  was 
becoming  tired.  Junior  dropped  the  spoon  and 
lay  back  on  his  pillow. 

Camilla  rose  with  the  intent  to  hand  the 
saucer,  still  half  full,  to  the  child's  nurse;  but 
Mademoiselle  did  not  see  it.  She  picked  up  a 
garment  already  folded  and  shaking  it  out  re- 
folded it.  Her  domain  had  been  invaded  with- 
out a  by-your-leave,  and  the  master  of  the 
house,  a  figurehead  in  her  estimation,  had  over- 
ridden her  wishes.  At  his  next  words  she  pricked 
up  her  ears  and  the  little  blouse  she  held  dan- 
gled by  one  sleeve. 

"Who  do  you  think  is  going  to  sleep  in  your 
other  bed  to-night?"  asked  the  father,  standing 
at  his  boy's  feet  and  noting  the  circles  around 
his  eyes. 

"Mam'selle,"  replied  the  child  stolidly. 

"Not  a  bit  of  it,"  was  the  blithe  answer. 

"Who?"  asked  the  boy.  Then  he  pointed  at 
the  visitor.  "Her?" 

Mr.  Barnes  shook  his  head.  "No,  old  man. 
88 


In  the  Nursery 


You  aren't  a  good  guesser.  Your  Daddy's  going 
to  sleep  there." 

The  child  sat  straight  up.  "  You,  Daddy  ? "  he 
asked  incredulously.  "Are  you  going  to  sleep 
in  my  other  bed?"  he  sighed  unconsciously. 
"  There  's  been  such  a  lot  of  folks  there." 

The  father  swallowed  again.  "  I  know,  son," 
he  said  quietly,  "  but  I  'm  going  to  be  the  one 
to-night." 

Junior  still  found  difficulty  in  discovering  a 
reason  for  this  unprecedented  windfall;  and 
having  become  a  misanthrope,  a  dark  cause 
occurred  to  him. 

"Is  it  because  I  was  a  bad  boy?"  he  asked 
solemnly. 

"No."  Mr.  Barnes  shook  his  head.  "It's 
because  —  just  because  I  want  to." 

The  melancholy  eyes  questioning  him  were 
reassured  by  his  expression. 

"Hurray ! "  cried  the  child,  sinking  back  on  his 
pillow.  "  I  don't  care  if  the  betes  do  come,  then. 
I  guess  my  Daddy  can  shoot  'em";  and  the 
speaker  cast  a  look  of  defiance  at  Mademoiselle. 

"Sh',  mon  cher"  she  said  soothingly.  "You 
know  your  Mam'selle  let  nossing  'urt  her  leetle 
one."  As  she  spoke,  the  black  eyes  glanced 
rapidly  from  one  to  another  in  the  room. 

89 


The  Right  Track 


"What  do  you  mean  by  the  'bait,'  Junior?" 
asked  his  father,  still  speaking  quietly. 

"Oh,  there  's  bears  —  and  —  tigers  and  they 
have"  —  he  shuddered  —  "yellow  eyes,  and  if 
I  wake  Mam'selle  up  in  the  night,  they'll  creep 
out  from  behind  that  screen  over  there";  and 
the  child  pointed  at  a  tall  folding  screen  that 
stood  in  a  corner  of  the  room. 

Mrs.  Barnes  sent  a  troubled  look  at  the 
Frenchwoman,  who  uttered  a  little  uncomfort- 
able laugh.  "La,  la,"  she  said,  " it  is  leetle  game 
I  play  with  mon  cher.  Fie,  fie,  leetle  one!" 

"And  Mam'selle  won't  let  the  light  burn 
'cause  it  hurts  her  eyes,  and  sometimes  I  hear 
them  roar  deep,  deep  down,  'cause  they  don't 
want  me  to  hear  'em."  Another  shudder  quiv- 
ered through  the  little  frame. 

"I'll  be  here  to-night,"  returned  the  father 
simply,  and  the  child  stretched  out  a  hot  hand. 
James  Barnes  leaned  over  the  bed  where 
Camilla  had  perched  a  few  minutes  ago  and 
caressed  the  little  hand. 

"I'll  be  back  in  a  few  minutes,  Junior,"  he 
said;  then  he  turned  toward  the  Frenchwoman. 

"I  want  to  see  you  a  minute,  Mam'selle,  in 
Mrs.  Barnes's  study." 

"Pardon,  Monsieur,"  she  replied,  her  head 
90 


In  the  Nursery 


erect,  "I  must  first  ask  all  to  leave  the  room, 
that  my  leetle  one  may  become  quiet.  He  grow 


vair  nervous." 


Mr.  Barnes's  teeth  set;  but  he  simply  made 
an  imperious  gesture.  "At  once,  if  you  please," 
he  said  sternly. 

The  Frenchwoman  shrugged  her  shoulders, 
and  cast  a  smiling  glance  at  her  mistress  as  she 
passed.  She  felt  secure,  and  quite  able  to  dom- 
inate the  situation  in  spite  of  the  child's  chat- 
ter. Her  master  was  going  to  sleep  beside  him! 
What  sudden  ebullition  of  parental  affection 
was  this  ?  Of  one  thing  she  was  certain.  One 
night  beside  the  little  bundle  of  nerves  would 
quite  suffice  the  gentleman. 

With  her  head  up  and  following  her  employer 
she  stepped  jauntily  across  the  threshold,  little 
dreaming  that  Vale  was  written  thereon. 

An  embarrassing  silence  fell  for  a  moment  in 
the  nursery.  To  Junior  wonderful  things  were 
occurring.  There  was  the  lady,  not  as  tall  as 
sister,  but  with  a  grown-up  face,  whose  bosom 
had  felt  so  kind  and  soft  when  everybody  was 
cross  at  the  table,  even  Daddy,  and  who  had 
seemed  to  like  to  hold  the  ice-cream  for  him; 
and  then  Uncle  Victor,  and  Mamabel,  all  up 
in  the  nursery  when  he  was  in  bed,  and  Daddy 


The  Right  Track 


promising  to  sleep  with  him;  —  all  these  out-of- 
the-ordinary  proceedings  made  the  small  boy 
feel  very  wide  awake,  and  his  owl-eyes  met 
Victor's,  still  searching  for  an  explanation. 

"Well,  I  must  be  wending  my  way,"  said 
that  young  man,  rising.  "  I  wonder  if  I  could  be 
of  service  in  taking  you  home,  Miss  Lovett?" 

"Where  do  you  live  ? "  asked  Junior,  suddenly 
transferring  his  questioning  eyes  to  Camilla. 

She  approached  the  bed  again.  "I  don't  live 
anywhere  —  exactly  —  Junior,"  she  said,  and 
her  eyes  and  voice  were  wistful.  "I'm  like  a 
bird,  flying  around  and  wondering  where  I  shall 

light.'; 

"Birds  always  know  where  to  light,"  said  the 
little  boy. 

"Yes,"  she  nodded,  "and  I  shall  know  pretty 


soon.': 


Mabel,  her  heart  beating  with  dread  of  what 
was  going  on  in  her  study,  stepped  forward. 
"Would  you  mind,  Miss  Lovett,  waiting  here  a 
few  minutes  ?  There  is  some  business  I  want  to 
speak  of  to  my  brother,  and  Mr.  Barnes  would 
n't  like  it  at  all  if  I  let  you  go  before  he  came 
back." 

"Certainly,  I'll  wait  with  pleasure,"  replied 
Camilla. 

92 


In  the  Nursery 


Victor  waved  a  good-night  to  Junior,  and 
Mabel  stood  for  a  moment  at  the  foot  of  his 
bed. 

"Can  you  catch  a  kiss  if  Mamabel  throws 
it?"  she  asked,  kissing  her  hand  and  tossing  it 
in  the  air. 

The  child  closed  and  unclosed  his  fingers  list- 
lessly, his  face  unchanging,  and  brother  and 
sister  disappeared.  As  they  emerged  into  the 
hall  a  strident  voice  came  faintly  down  the 
passage. 

"Just  what  I  expected,"  said  Mabel.  "I 
knew  she'd  take  it  hard."  She  fled  downstairs. 
Victor  followed. 

"What  do  you  think!"  she  exclaimed  when 
they  reached  the  hall,  "James  is  discharging 
Mademoiselle." 

"Are  n't  ^pu  glad  to  be  saved  the  trouble?" 

"But,  Victor,  her  accent  is  wonderful.  I 
could  have  talked  to  her  about  those  mistakes 
she  has  made  with  Junior.  I  know  they're 
atrocious,"  she  added,  as  she  noted  the  expres- 
sion of  her  brother's  face;  "but  as  a  governess 
she's  most  desirable,  I  assure  you.  She  had 
good  references." 

"And  you'll  give  her  another,  I  suppose?" 

"Oh,  for  pity's  sake  don't  look  at  me  that 

93 


The  Right  Track 


way.  I  'm  so  wrought  up  already  I  can't  bear 
anything  more.  I  have  to  read  a  paper  to- 
morrow and  James  thinks  it  would  be  noth- 
ing for  me  to  stay  awake  all  night  to-night 
with  Junior.  The  child  talks  in  his  sleep  and 
cries  out  and  kicks.  Poor  Mademoiselle  goes 
through  everything.  She  has  often  told  me 
about  it." 

Victor  shook  his  head.  "I  told  you,  you 
remember,  —  I  told  you  you  were  getting  into 
the  wrong  box." 

"James  understood,"  returned  Mabel,  twin- 
ing her  hands  together  in  her  defiant  excite- 
ment. "I  was  to  have  nothing  to  do  with  the 
problem  of  his  children." 

"And  you're  willing  to  have  it  that  way," 
returned  Victor,  his  eyes  narrowing.  "You  call 
that  partnership." 

"I've  done  all  I  ever  promised  to  do." 
Mabel's  voice  caught  in  her  throat,  but  her  look 
still  gleamed  defiance.  "I've  done  more;  for 
I've  been  bothered  to  death  with  women  who 
could  n't  manage  Junior." 

"You  won't  be  bothered  much  longer,"  re- 
turned Victor  quietly. 

"That's  all  you  know,"  retorted  his  sister. 
"James  is  discharging  Mademoiselle  this  mm- 

94 


In  the  Nursery 


ute  and  I  shall  have  to  go  at  it  again  to-morrow 
with  all  the  important  work  I  'm  booked  for  at 
the  club." 

"Cheer  up,"  said  Victor  bitterly.  "It  looks 
as  if  the  next  incumbent  would  succeed  in 
finishing  up  the  business." 

"What  do  you  mean?" 

"Junior's  about  done  for  in  my  estimation." 

"You  say  that  to  frighten  me,"  exclaimed 
Mabel,  remembering  uncomfortably  her  hus- 
band's similar  suggestion.  "  I  believe  my  arm 
is  black  and  blue  this  minute.  That  outburst 
looked  like  weakness,  did  n't  it?" 

Victor  regarded  her,  unmoved  by  the  sar- 
casm. 

"I'll  tell  you  what,  Mabel,"  he  said  quietly, 
"I'm  nothing  to  boast  of  myself;  but  I  have 
some  glimmering  of  what's  sportsman-like;  and 
don't  be  surprised  if  you  don't  see  me  around 
here  much  hereafter.  I  can't  stand  it." 

Mabel,  waiting  there  with  him  at  the  foot 
of  the  stairs,  considered  herself  a  most  abused 
woman.  She  felt  suddenly  alone,  in  a  cold  and 
inimical  world.  She  forced  back  her  tears. 
"You  were  out  of  sorts  when  you  came  here 
this  afternoon,"  she  returned,  "and  you  are 
still  venting  your  mood  on  me.  Do  just  as  you 

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please  about  coming.  Each  of  us  knows  his  own 
business  best." 

Mabel  cast  a  glance  up  the  staircase.  She 
shrank  from  the  inevitable  scene  with  Mademoi- 
selle, and  wondered  if  there  was  a  man  on  earth 
who  had  any  understanding  sympathy  with  a 
woman! 


CHAPTER  VII 

THE   BIRD  WITHOUT  A   NEST 

LEFT  alone  with  Junior,  Camilla  sat  down 
on  the  foot  of  the  second  bed  and  faced  the 
boy,  who  regarded  her  appraisingly.  Her  hair, 
parted  in  the  middle  and  waving  away  from 
her  forehead,  and  the  small  white  teeth  that 
showed  in  her  ready  smile  were  pleasant  to 
look  upon;  but  the  steady  beaming  of  her  kind 
eyes  was  what  he  liked  best.  Eyes  in  his  expe- 
rience when  they  saw  him  at  all  —  all  except 
Daddy's  —  saw  him  to  blame;  but  his  somber 
face  now  showed  no  sign. 

"I'm  glad  they  let  me  have  a  visit  with  you 
alone,"  said  Camilla.  "I  thought  I'd  like  to 
tell  you  about  the  little  baby  I  took  care  of  in 
New  York.  I  love  her  so  much." 

The  small  boy,  all  eyes,  looking  up  from  the 
pillow,  experienced  a  strange  sensation.  It  was 
an  unpleasant  sensation.  He  had  felt  it  some- 
times before  when  Daddy  sent  him  to  bed  and 
remained  belowstairs  laughing  and  talking  with 
Mamabel. 

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"I  don't  like  babies,"  he  announced  with 
finality. 

"But  you  would  this  one.  She  has  little 
hands  —  oh,  not  nearly  as  big  as  yours  —  and 
just  a  few  teeth  —  not  a  whole  set  like  yours, 
and  cunning  little  pink  ears,  and  her  brown  hair 
curls  around  them  in  rings,  and  her  eyes — " 

"I  don't  like  her,  though,"  interrupted 
Junior,  hardening  his  heart  against  Camilla's 
gentle  voice  that  sounded  so  sweet  after 
Mademoiselle's  sharpness.  "Why  don't  you 
go  back  and  see  her?"  he  added  coldly. 

Camilla  lifted  her  shoulders  and  eyebrows 
and  smiled.  "Her  daddy  and  her  mother  came 
home,  and  she  does  n't  need  me  any  more.  I 
wanted  you  to  understand  why  it  made  me 
happy  to  get  a  little  boy  in  my  arms  to-night. 
My  arms  felt  so  queer  and  empty." 

Junior  considered  this  a  moment,  and  in 
spite  of  himself  warmed  his  heart  at  Camilla's 
eyes.  "But  I'm  not  a  baby,"  he  said  quickly. 
"I'm  nearly  seven." 

"Yes,  I  know." 

"Besides,  your  baby  sounds  like  a  doll." 
Pause.  "I  used  to  have  a  doll;  her  name  was 
Miss  Rosalind;  but  boys  when  they're  six  don't 
care  about  dolls."  He  spoke  slowly  and  with 


The  Bird  without  a  Nest 

consideration.  His  visitor,  listening  for  the 
Magic  Music,  with  every  perception  sharpened, 
thought  she  detected  a  wistfulness. 

"I  hope  your  doll  is  n't  thrown  away,  Junior. 
I  should  like  to  see  it  some  time.  Is  it  a  girl 
doll?" 

"Ye — es."  The  boy  spoke  with  elaborate 
scorn.  " Anybody 'd  laugh  at  anybody  who'd 
care  for  that.  I  Ve  got  soldiers,  and  a  cannon." 

"I  wouldn't  care  if  they  did  laugh  at  me, 
Junior."  Camilla  spoke  confidentially.  "I  like 
dolls  still.  I  could  have  fun  playing  with  them. 
Does  that  sound  queer  to  you  ?  You  may  laugh 
at  me." 

"I'd  laugh  if  I  wanted  to,"  replied  the  child; 
but  his  parted  lips  looked  as  if  they  had  for- 
gotten how. 

"To-day  I  stopped  in  front  of  the  toy-shop 
windows,  and  looked  at  some  of  the  big  beauti- 
ful dolls,  trying  to  find  one  that  looked  like  my 
baby." 

"She  isn't  yours,"  declared  the  little  boy 
roughly.  "You  just  said  so."  He  frowned,  and 
the  music  softened  into  a  minor  strain. 

"No,  no,  she  is  n't,"  agreed  Camilla;  "but  I 
was  just  telling  you  so  you'd  know  how  happy 
it  made  me  to  come  here  and  find  a  live  little 

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boy  that  I  could  talk  to  and  who  would  under- 
stand; because — weren't  you  ever  homesick, 
Junior?" 

"I  don't  know  what  that  means." 

"  It  means  longing  for  some  one  you  can  love, 
and  do  things  for,  and  help." 

"There  is  n't  anybody  that  I  like  but  Daddy." 

"And  I  have  n't  any  daddy,  you  see,"  said 
Camilla,  speaking  brightly,  "nor  any  mother, 
nor  any  brother,  nor  any  sister,  nor  any  house, 
and  so,  don't  you  see,  when  I  had  to  come  so  far 
away  from  the  baby,  how  nice  it  was  that  you 
could  be  such  a  comfort  to  me?" 

This  was  a  psychological  poser  for  Junior.  A 
few  minutes  a  day  with  an  affectionate  but 
tired  and  usually  abstracted  daddy  was  the 
only  exception  in  his  mind  to  the  rule  that  every 
man's  hand  was  against  him. 

"Am  I  a  comfort  to  you?"  he  asked  at  last, 
and  never  had  the  slender  white  face  looked 
more  somber. 

"A  very  great  comfort,"  replied  Camilla  se- 
riously; "and  some  time,"  she  added,  "if  you 
think  you  could  find  the  doll  you  used  to  have 
when  you  were  small,  I  'd  like  to  see  it.  I  was 
really  tempted  to  buy  one  to-day." 

"The  devil  tempts  people,"  announced 
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The  Bird  without  a  Nest 

Junior.  "He's  got  a  fork  in  his  tail.  Why 
does  n't  he  have  a  knife,  too?"  The  question 
came  with  a  gleam  of  interest. 

"I  don't  think  it  was  the  devil  that  tempted 
me.  I  think  it  was  Love;  but  Love  had  some- 
thing better  for  me."  Camilla  smiled  across  the 
little  white  bed.  "  It  had  you  /  " 

"Do  you  like  me?"  Junior's  tentative  tone 
was  rather  shamefaced.  He  could  not  resist 
reaching  antennae  toward  the  warmth,  and  he 
looked  full  at  the  beaming  eyes. 

"I  like  you  more  than  I  can  say,"  was  the 
prompt  reply. 

"Where  do  you  live?" 

"Don't  you  remember  I  told  you,  nowhere? 
Pretty  soon  when  your  Daddy  comes  I  shall  fly 
away  like  a  bird  and  light  somewhere  —  I  guess 
in  a  hotel." 

"What's  that?" 

"A  place  where  they  let  birds  light  who 
have  n't  any  nests  of  their  own." 

Junior  regarded  her  for  a  silent  pause.  "You 
talk  kind  of  silly,"  he  said  judicially. 

Camilla  laughed.  "Perhaps  I  do,"  she  an- 
swered. 

"Do  you  wish  you  did  n't  have  to  fly  out 
of  my  house?"  he  asked  after  another  pause. 

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"I  try  not  to  wish,  Junior,"  she  said. 

The  child's  gaze  fastened  more  intently  upon 
her.  A  thought  had  suddenly  begun  to  work  in 
his  mind. 

"When  are  you  coming  back  to  this  house 
again?"  he  asked. 

"I  don't  know,  dear,"  she  answered.. 

Junior  scanned  the  wavy  hair,  the  smooth 
forehead,  the  gentle  smile,  and  warm  eyes,  and 
a  vague  dread  of  the  old  house  possessed  him, 
as  it  would  be  to-morrow  alone  with  Mam'selle. 

Daddy  would  go  away  to-morrow.  There 
was  no  hope  of  retaining  that  bird  in  the  bush. 
This  one  as  yet  was  in  the  hand.  He  considered 
the  possibilities. 

His  next  words  were  as  earnest  as  his  gaze. 

"Do  you  wish  you  could  sleep  in  my  other  bed, 
Camel,  instead  of  Daddy?"  he  asked  slowly. 

Loud  and  inspiring  were  the  harmonies  in 
which  Camilla  moved  closer  to  the  child  and 
took  a  willing  hand. 

"Yes,  little  darling,"  she  said,  "I  do  wish  it." 

At  that  moment  a  crashing  noise  was  heard 
from  the  other  side  of  the  wall. 

"That's  Mam'selle's  room,"  said  Junior 
softly.  "  She  makes  that  noise  when  she 's  awful 
mad." 

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The  Bird  without  a  Nest 

His  fingers  tightened  on  Camilla's,  and  the 
noises,  little  and  big,  continued,  until  a  bang 
as  of  a  trunk  lid  descending  seemed  to  be  the 
climax. 

Camilla  closed  her  eyes  and  Junior  dilated 
his.  There  were  a  few  more  rustlings,  a  door 
slammed,  then  silence.  Camilla  rested  her  head 
against  the  edge  of  the  child's  pillow  and  drew 
his  hand  against  her  cheek.  He  snuggled  closer 
to  her  with  a  delicious  sense  of  safety. 

Downstairs  Mabel  had  drawn  Victor  into  the 
living-room  and  lighted  the  gas-logs.  She  was 
shivering,  and  as  the  noises  in  the  house  in- 
creased, she  felt  glad  of  the  firm  strength  above- 
stairs  which  was  saving  her  from  handling  the 
firebrand.  By  morning  Mademoiselle's  wrath 
would  have  spent  itself. 

Not  that  Mabel  intended  to  show  any  grati- 
tude. She  was  still  injured,  miserable,  and  terri- 
bly bored  by  the  necessity  of  replacing  Made- 
moiselle. At  last  she  heard  a  motor  draw  up 
before  the  house,  and  her  husband's  voice 
speaking.  There  was  a  rush  on  the  stairs,  an 
opening  and  closing  of  the  front  door.  Then  in 
a  minute  or  two  the  noise  of  the  motor  starting, 
a  reopening  and  closing  of  the  house  door,  and 
Mr.  Barnes  pulled  aside  the  velvet  portieres. 

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The  Right  Track 


"Ah,  here  you  are,"  he  said.  "Well,  that 
job's  done." 

"Do  you  mean  to  say  she's  gone?"  exclaimed 
Mabel,  amazed. 

"Gone  —  vanished."  James  Barnes  looked 
a  little  weary. 

"But  you  promised  me — "  began  Mabel, 
drawing  herself  up  very  straight. 

"Yes,  I  gave  her  her  choice;  and  a  little  extra 
money,  a  hotel  and  a  taxi  prevailed.  Ugh!  I 
can  breathe  better!" 

Mabel  looked  rueful.  "  It 's  all  very  well  for 
you — "  she  began. 

"My  dear,  that  was  a  dangerous  person," 
said  James  Barnes  in  a  different  tone.  "I'm 
not  imaginative  as  you  have  often  complained 
quite  justly;  but  the  reason  you  have  not  lost 
a  lot  of  jewels  is  because  you  don't  care  for 
them  and  I've  never  given  you  any."  He 
nodded.  "She  was  half  ready  to  go.  This  was 
no  field  for  her  talents.  She  made  one  false 
move,  though.  She  forgot  to  ask  for  a  reference. 
When  she  wants  one  she  '11  write  it  herself  and 
it  will  come  from  across  the  pond.  Were  n't  the 
ones  she  showed  you  foreign?" 

"Yes,  because  she  had  only  been  here — " 
Mabel  stopped  under  her  husband's  smile. 

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The  Bird  without  a  Nest 

"Yes,  I  know,"  he  answered. 

"Well,  I'm  going  to  try  to  get  a  German 
next,"  said  Mabel.  "Junior  must  have  the  ad- 
vantage of  a  language  and  Germans  are  more 
phlegmatic  and  dependable." 

"  I  '11  interview  the  next  one  myself,  my  dear," 
said  James  Barnes  kindly. 

"Find  her,  too,  then,"  retorted  Mabel. 
"Telephone  an  advertisement  to-night,  James. 
Think  what  a  situation  we'll  be  in." 

Victor  Ford  stood  up  abruptly.  "  I  have  been 
waiting  to  take  Miss  Lovett  home,"  he  said. 

James  Barnes  recollected  with  a  start  that 
Camilla  was  still  in  the  house. 

"Very  good  of  you,  Victor,"  he  declared,  and 
looked  at  his  wife.  The  stress  in  her  tightened 
lips  changed  his  desire  to  have  her  seek  his 
guest.  He  did  not  wish  Camilla  to  carry  away 
any  further  disagreeable  impressions. 

"'Phone  for  the  car,  will  you,  Victor?"  he 
said.  "I'll  go  up  and  get  Miss  Lovett." 

Ascending  the  stairs,  he  hurried  to  the  nurs- 
ery door,  apologetic  that  the  visitor  had  been 
left  to  herself  so  long;  but  he  paused  on  the 
threshold  at  the  signal  of  Camilla's  raised 
finger.  He  gazed  at  the  surprising  tableau 
before  him. 

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The  guest  was  reclining  with  her  head  toward 
Junior,  who  had  fallen  asleep  with  one  hand  in 
hers  and  his  other  arm  tightly  around  her  neck. 

Uncomfortable  as  she  must  have  been  she 
was  evidently  loath  to  be  freed  from  the  stran- 
glehold; but  James  Barnes's  step  had  been 
heavy  and  the  door  had  squeaked.  Junior 
waked  and  turned. 

The  guest  sat  up  and  tucked  away  her  dis- 
arranged hair. 

"Do  excuse  us,  Camilla,"  said  the  host, 
approaching.  "You  fell  on  stirring  times  in 
my  house.  I  'm  sorry." 

"I'm  glad,"  she  returned.  "It  had  to  be 
uncovered,  you  know." 

"What's  that?"  inquired  James  Barnes. 

"Why  —  we  can't  get  rid  of  wrong  until  it's 
uncovered  to  us,  can  we?" 

Mr.  Barnes  smiled  at  the  quaint  wording. 
"That's  so.  Blows  in  the  dark  are  hard  to  fend 
off.  Well,  I  've  got  rid  of  one  wrong  thing.  You 
may  have  heard  some  slamming  around  here." 

"It  was  Mam'selle,"  announced  Junior 
sleepily. 

"Yes,  she's  gone,  son."  And  James  Barnes 
looked  compassionately  at  the  child. 

"Will  she  come  back  to-morrow?"  asked 
106 


The  Bird  without  a  Nest 

Junior,  the  idea  appearing  to  lift  his  heavy 
eyelids. 

"No,  nor  the  day  after  that,  nor  ever." 

The  boy  gave  his  pillow  a  thump.  "I'm 
glad,"  he  said. 

His  father  spoke  again.  "Why  did  n't  you 
tell  me  you  wanted  her  to  go  away,  Junior?" 

The  child  reflected.  He  had  not  the  vocabu- 
lary to  explain  that  he  had  come  to  accept  the 
general  view  that  he  was  a  necessary  evil  and 
that  it  did  n't  matter  so  very  much  which  of 
the  persons  hired  to  wash  and  dress  him  was 
the  antagonist  in  his  daily  duels. 

"I  —  she — "  he  began;  then  finished: 
"She'd  slap  me  if  I  did." 

His  father  gave  an  inarticulate  exclamation. 

"Well,  go  to  sleep  now,"  he  said.  "Uncle 
Victor  is  going  to  take  Miss  Lovett  home  and 
I'll  be  back  here  before  you  can  say  'Jack 
Robinson." 

"Oh,  no,  Daddy,"  exclaimed  the  child,  now 
very  wide  awake.  "Miss  Lovie  has  n't  any 
home  to  go  to.  She 's  a  bird,  flying  around  with- 
out any  nest.  Uncle  Victor  would  have  to  go 
around  the  streets  —  and  around  — and  around 
—  and  around"  —  the  little  hand  made  vague 
circles  in  the  air  —  "and  so-  '  Junior  came 

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The  Right  Track 


back  from  watching  his  hand  in  his  flight  of 
fancy,  to  the  practical;  "and  so  she's  going  to 
sleep  in  my  other  bed,  Daddy.  You  won't  care, 
will  you,  'cause  she  has  n't  got  any  nest." 

Camilla  sat  on  the  edge  of  the  bed  watching 
her  host's  surprise.  He  caught  her  smiling  gaze. 

"Why,  that's  extremely  good  of  Miss 
Lovett,"  he  replied;  "but  she  doesn't  know 
what  an  active  little  fellow  you  have  become  in 
the  night  season.  She'd  probably  like  to  get  a 
snooze  in  somewhere.  If  you  will  stay,  Camilla," 
he  went  on,  addressing  the  guest,  "my  wife  and 
I  will  be  delighted.  We've  a  guest-room  just 
waiting  for  you." 

"No,  no,"  exclaimed  Junior,  sitting  up  in 
bed  and  scowling.  "I  want  her  to  sleep  here." 

"How  about  your  poor  old  Daddy? "  inquired 
Mr.  Barnes,  as  amused  as  he  was  astonished. 

"You'll  go  away  to-morrow.  She'd  stay," 
replied  Junior. 

His  father  laughed.  "Wise  beyond  your 
years,  young  man.  Camilla,  you've  made  a 
crush,"  he  went  on,  "but  such  heroic  measures 
won't  be  necessary." 

Junior  began  to  scowl  and  beat  the  air  with 
his  fists.  "Wait,  wait,  boy,"  said  his  father. 
"Miss  Lovett  can  have  a  good  night  in  the 

1 08 


The  Bird  without  a  Nest 

guest-room,  and  then,  perhaps,  she  will  stay 
a  while  to-morrow  morning  and  visit  you." 

Camilla  reached  one  of  the  little  belligerent 
fists  and  held  it. 

"Junior  is  right,"  she  said,  "in  thinking  I'd 
like  this  nest  best." 

The  other  fist  became  quiet. 

"But  from  what  I  hear,  the  child's  a  circus 
in  the  night,"  protested  the  host. 

"Do  you  wonder,"  asked  Camilla,  regarding 
him  gravely,  "  after  some  of  the  things  we  have 
listened  to?"  Then  after  a  little  pause:  "I  wish 
you'd  let  me,  Jim,  unless  Mrs.  Barnes  objects." 

"Why,"  returned  the  amazed  father,  "she'll 
be  very  grateful,  of  course;  but  it's  a  rather  odd 
way  to  treat  a  visitor.  I  had  it  all  fixed  to 
improve  my  mind  all  night." 

"No,  go  to  bed  and  sleep,  Jim,  and  know 
that  you've  made  me  happy." 

"We'll  see  about  that  at  breakfast-time," 
laughed  the  host  skeptically;  "but  be  it  on  your 
own  head,  Camilla.  I  '11  go  down  and  send  Mrs. 
Barnes  to  fix  you  up  for  your  vigil." 

James  Barnes's  face  wore  an  unconscious 
smile  as  he  descended  the  stairs  and  reentered 
the  room  where  Victor  and  Mabel  waited.  They 
both  looked  up,  surprised  that  he  was  alone. 

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The  Right  Track 


"See  anything  queer  about  my  nose?"  he 
asked. 

"Where  is  Miss  Lovett?"  asked  Mabel. 

"I  tell  you  my  nose  is  out  of  joint.  Junior 
won't  let  Camilla  go.  She's  going  to  be  the 
sacrifice  instead  of  me." 

"What  do  you  mean?  Sleep  with  him?" 
asked  Mabel  in  extreme  surprise. 

"Just  that." 

"But,  James,  how  can  we  let  her — a  stran- 
ger; and  yet,  if  she's  willing — I  know  how 
much  you  need  your  mind  clear  and  I  have 
been  worrying  about  your  being  kept  awake. 
Perhaps  Miss  Lovett  has  nothing  special  to  do 
to-morrow  and  she  seems  so  fond  of  children." 

It  was  at  that  moment  that  the  Magic  Music 
began  to  sound  with  a  fuller  volume  of  har- 
mony. Perhaps  Camilla's  inner  ear  took  cogni- 
zance of  it  as  she  moved  about  the  nursery, 
followed  by  the  child's  big  eyes,  her  prayer 
ascending  like  a  pure  flame  from  the  altar  of 
her  heart. 

"Look  here,  Mabel,"  said  James  Barnes 
suddenly,  his  face  eagerly  alight,  "I've  just 
had  an  idea.  Camilla's  in  town  looking  for  a 
job.  What's  the  matter  with  our  engaging 
her?" 

no 


The  Bird  without  a  Nest 

"  For  a  governess  ?  Oh,  no.  An  ignorant  little 
countrywoman  like  that?  Of  course,  she's  all 
right.  I  don't  mean  to  say  anything  against 
an  old  friend  of  yours ;  but  she  has  n't  had 
advantages.  We  want  to  do  better  for  Junior 
than  that." 

"Yes,"  returned  her  husband.  "We  must  get 
somebody  if  we  can  who  will  slap  him  and  bully 
him  in  seven  different  languages ;  some  one  who 
knows  how  to  take  care  of  her  precious  self  and 
protect  her  sleep  at  night.  Let's  put  in  the 
ad  at  once." 

"James,  don't  be  so  foolish,"  pleaded  his 
wife,  the  enormity  of  the  possibility  making  her 
gentle  and  cautious.  "Do  you  realize  what  we 
should  be  letting  ourselves  in  for?  You  can't 
put  an  old  friend  at  the  servants'  table,  can  you  ? 
And  don't  you  think  it's  depressing  to  have 
some  one  about  all  the  time  who  is  de —  who 
is  n't  quite  shapely,  you  know?" 

James  Barnes  began  to  pace  the  floor  and 
Victor  Ford  looked  out  the  window  for  the  car. 

"Men  don't  .think  about  these  things," 
added  IVIabel  pacifically. 

Her  husband  stopped  and  faced  her. 

"I  can't  speak  for  all  men,"  he  said,  "but  I 
know  the  sort  of  thing  that  appeals  to  a  father 

ill 


The  Right  Track 


more  than  degrees  and  foreign  languages.  It's 
what  I  saw  when  I  went  upstairs.  Junior  was 
asleep  with  his  arms  around  Camilla's  neck." 
Something  rose  in  the  speaker's  throat;  but  he 
knew  he  had  a  fight  to  make,  a  fight  he  must 
win,  and  he  swallowed  and  pushed  on.  "I  guess 
it's  the  first  time  that  the  baby  has  ever  gone 
to  sleep  with  his  arms  around  a  woman's  neck." 

Silence  for  a  moment  while  Victor  doggedly 
scanned  the  road,  and  Mabel  bit  her  lip. 

Her  husband  saw  her  flush. 

"I'll  make  it  easy  for  you  in  any  way  you 
like,  dear,"  he  went  on.  "You  don't  care  much 
where  headquarters  are.  Camilla's  a  babyless 
mother.  If  she  '11  stay,  let  the  boy  come  into  his 
heritage.  Then  if  embarrassment  occurs  in  any 
way,  I  '11  take  a  suite  in  the  finest  hotel  in  town 
and  we  '11  go  there  and  entertain  or  do  anything 
you  please." 

4  *  There's  the  car,"  said  Victor,  suddenly 
reappearing  from  behind  the  curtains  where 
James  Barnes  in  his  earnestness  had  forgotten 
his  existence. 

"Oh,  yes,"  answered  the  host. 

" I'll  go  and  tell  Dick  to  take  it  back.  Good- 
night." Victor  was  striding  hastily  to  the  door. 

"No,  let  him   take  you   home  first,"  said 

112 


The  Bird  without  a  Nest 

Mr.  Barnes.  "Good-night."  He  turned  back  to 
his  wife.  "Is  it  a  bargain,  Mabel?"  he  asked. 

She  was  knotting  her  hands  together,  and 
quivering  as  under  blows,  but  she  hardened  her 
heart. 

"I  suppose  so,"  she  answered  coldly. 

"That's  right,  dear."  Her  husband  patted 
her  shoulder.  "Now,  you  go  upstairs  and  give 
Camilla  one  of  your  nice  white  ruffly  things, 
and  then  we  '11  go  to  bed  and  sleep,  and  in  the 
morning  feel  her  pulse  after  she's  had  a  sample." 

"I  don't  know  how  much  I  shall  sleep,"  re- 
turned Mabel.  "I  have  a  headache." 

"Well,  you'd  have  had  a  worse  one  if  you 
had  gone  through  the  tussle  with  Mam'selle. 
Credit  me  with  one  good  mark,  anyway,  dear." 

"Oh,  the  good  marks  are  all  yours,  of  course," 
returned  his  wife,  her  eyes  very  dark.  "Mine 
are  this  kind."  She  lifted  her  arm  where  was 
a  bruise.  "Here  is  one  Junior  gave  me  to-day. 
He  had  a  piece  of  metal  in  his  hand." 

James  Barnes  took  the  round  arm  in  both 
hands  and  tried  to  kiss  the  black-and-blue  spot; 
but  she  snatched  it  away  and  hurried  from  the 
room. 


CHAPTER  VIII 

THE    BETES 

MABEL'S  heart  beat  fast  as  she  went  up- 
stairs. She  was  very  angry  with  her  husband, 
not  so  much  for  what  he  had  said  as  that  Victor 
had  heard  him  say  it.  In  the  old  days  she  had 
been  the  strong,  steadfast  pivot  on  which  the 
household  turned.  At  the  time  of  her  marriage 
she  had  been  a  heroine  in  her  own,  and  in  a 
modified  fashion  in  her  brother's,  eyes. 

Through  no  fault  of  hers  she  had  been  rudely 
thrust  down  from  a  pedestal.  This  morning  — 
nay,  a  few  hours  ago  —  she  had  been  happy. 
Constantly  assured  that  she  was  invaluable  in 
the  splendid  work  being  done  at  her  clubs, 
secure  in  the  triumph  that  awaited  her  to- 
morrow in  the  reading  of  her  paper,  which  she 
secretly  believed  was  the  best  of  the  season,  all 
these  tiresome,  distasteful  household  matters 
had  come  up  to  harass  her. 

Of  course,  an  inconsistent  jealousy  of  Camilla 
was  present.  The  latter's  willingness  to  take 
charge  of  Junior  threw  her  own  reluctance  into 

114 


The  BStes 


the  light,  and  it  was  with  no  friendly  feeling  that 
she  entered  the  nursery  now. 

Camilla  approached  her.  "Is  n't  this  a  great 
surprise,  Mrs.  Barnes,"  she  said  softly,  "for 
Junior  to  invite  me  to  stay  with  him?" 

"Yes,"  returned  Mabel  stiffly.  "I  am  sorry 
you  are  doomed  to  be  so  uncomfortable;  but 
with  Junior's  father  an  invitation  from  the 
child  is  equivalent  to  one  from  royalty :  a  com- 
mand." 

"  It  will  be  a  pleasure  to  me,"  replied  Camilla 
humbly. 

Mabel  continued  as  if  she  had  not  heard  her. 
"I  should  sleep  with  him  myself,  of  course,  in 
his  nurse's  sudden  departure,  except  that  I 
have  some  important  outside  work  to  do  to- 
morrow and  need  my  rest." 

"I  don't  want  you,"  announced  Junior  from 
the  bed  in  no  uncertain  tones. 

"It  wouldn't  matter  what  you  wanted," 
returned  Mabel,  very  much  irritated,  but  speak- 
ing with  dignity.  "  I  should  do  what  was  best." 
She  dreaded  further  revelations  from  the  bed, 
and  hastened  on.  "  I  will  go  and  bring  you  what 
you  need  for  the  night,  Miss  Lovett." 

"Let  me  go  with  you  and  bring  my  wraps 
away  from  your  room.  I  may  be  off  in  the 


The  Right  Track 


morning  while  you're  still  busy,"  said  Camilla; 
and  suiting  the  action  to  the  word  she  followed 
her  hostess  out  of  the  room.  No  kisses  were 
thrown  this  time  from  Mamabel's  pretty  hand. 

By  the  time  Camilla  returned,  burdened,  to 
the  nursery,  she  understood  pretty  well  the 
soreness  at  Mabel's  heart.  Her  hostess  had 
assured  her  that  breakfast  was  a  movable  feast 
with  them  and  that  the  visitor  was  at  liberty 
to  have  hers  at  any  moment  she  pleased  and 
be  free  to  leave  the  house  quite  informally. 
Camilla  found  James  Barnes  bidding  his  son 
good-night. 

He  turned  to  her  as  she  placed  the  clothing 
on  a  chintz  divan. 

"I  hope  you'll  be  just  as  good  friends  with 
us  in  the  morning  as  you  are  now,"  he  said. 
"I'll  see  you  then,  Camilla,  and  find  out  how 
you  liked  the  sample." 

She  looked  at  him  serenely.  "  I  know  already, 
Jim,"  she  answered,  noting  his  last  word  hope- 
fully, and  even  waiting  a  moment  for  some- 
thing further.  He  shook  hands  with  her  and 
said  good-night,  and  her  peaceful,  happy  face 
seemed  to  lighten  some  long-carried  load  on  his 
heart. 

When  the  door  closed,  Junior  spoke :  — 
116 


The  B6tes 


"What  did  you  call  my  Daddy?"  he  asked. 

Camilla  laughed  a  little.  "I  guess  that 
sounded  funny  to  you,  Junior;  but  when  I  was 
as  little  as  you  are,  your  Daddy  was  a  big,  big, 
boy,  and  all  the  boys  and  girls  in  school  called 
him  'Jim.'  He  was  pretty  kind  to  a  little  girl. 
Sometimes  he  took  me  on  his  sled.  I  did  n't 
have  any;  and  once  he  drove  away  a  big  dog 
that  was  playing  about  and  knocked  me  down. 
I  never  forgot  that.  We  always  do  remember 
when  people  are  kind  to  us,  don't  we?" 

Junior  did  n't  reply  to  this.  He  was  picturing 
his  father  a  big  boy  with  a  sled,  and  watching 
Camilla's  every  movement  with  owl-eyes. 

"Now,"  she  went  on,  "I'm  going  into  the 
bathroom  a  few  minutes  to  undress.  Shall  I 
turn  down  the  light  a  little  so  you  can  go  to 
sleep?" 

"No!"  exclaimed  the  child  in  a  loud,  rude 
voice. 

"All  right,"  replied  Camilla  quietly.  She 
moved  to  the  large  paneled  screen  in  the  corner 
of  the  room  and  looked  behind  it.  "Oh,  how 
lovely!"  she  said.  "Such  a  lot  of  toys.  What 
a  beauty  rocking-horse;  and  there's  a  train  of 
cars  and  so  many  things  you  '11  show  me  in  the 
morning.  We  don't  need  to  cover  them  up  at 

117 


The  Right  Track 


night,  do  we?  Let's  have  all  the  more  air  in  the 


room." 


As  she  spoke  Camilla  folded  the  screen  and 
leaned  it  against  the  side  of  the  chimney,  Junior 
watching  her  in  silence. 

She  walked  over  to  him  with  a  smile  and 
turned  down  the  cover  of  her  bed.  "  It 's  getting 
pretty  late  for  a  little  boy,"  she  said.  "You  need 
n't  stay  awake  for  politeness.  I  shall  come  and 
get  into  this  pretty  white  nest  in  a  few  minutes." 

"You  need  n't  shut  the  door  tight,"  returned 
Junior. 

"All  right,"  said  Camilla,  and  taking  up  her 
night-clothes,  she  opened  the  door  into  the 
bathroom  and  disappeared,  careful  not  to  latch 
it  behind  her  as  she  pushed  it  to. 

Left  alone,  Junior  gloomily  regarded  the  un- 
precedented exposure  of  his  toys  in  the  corner. 
The  fire  burning  very  low  sputtered  and  cracked 
a  little.  His  horse's  jaunty  and  proudly  curved 
neck  stood  up  bravely  in  the  electric-lighted 
room.  Junior's  eyelids  felt  heavy,  but  he  jerked 
them  open.  His  new  friend  had  gone  into  the 
bathroom  —  yes.  Moreover,  he  knew  there  was 
no  door  out  of  it  save  the  one  he  was  looking  at; 
but  neither  Daddy  nor  Mamabel  believed  that 
he  would  be  a  quiet  boy  in  the  night.  The 

118 


The  Bttes 


visitor  had  said  she  would  come  and  get  into  his 
other  bed;  but  in  his  experience  grown-up 
people  said  a  great  many  things,  and  he  had 
found  that  seeing  is  believing.  What  more  easy, 
if  his  new  friend  found  him  asleep,  than  to  put 
out  the  lights,  and  slip  through  the  door  to 
another  room  where  there  was  no  mechant  petit 
to  kick  and  make  a  noise. 

So,  by  rigid  effort,  the  owl-eyes  were  wide 
when  Camilla  came  out  of  the  bathroom. 

Mademoiselle  always  put  her  black  hair  up 
in  crimping-pins  at  night  and  this  small  forest 
of  horns  was  imprisoned  under  a  broad  red 
ribbon,  tied  in  a  bow  on  top  of  the  lady's  head. 
Junior  hated  this  ribbon,  connected  somehow 
with  his  nocturnal  fears;  perhaps  because 
Mademoiselle  was  more  severe  by  night  than 
by  day,  and  the  rampant  bow  was  the  first 
thing  he  saw  when  a  heavy  hand  shook  him  out 
of  his  nightmares. 

Now  the  figure  that  opened  the  bathroom 
door  and  coming  out  closed  it  behind  her  looked 
more  like  a  little  girl  than  ever.  Her  night-dress 
trailed  on  the  floor,  and  her  pale  pink  kimono 
hung  in  pretty  folds.  Her  wavy  hair,  parted 
and  brushed  smoothly,  hung  in  two  short 
braids  ending  in  curls. 

119 


The  Right  Track 


"Still  awake?"  she  said  pleasantly,  her 
fresh  sweet  face  smiling;  then  as  the  spirited 
horse  pranced  as  she  passed  him  to  put  out 
the  lights  she  patted  his  head.  "Good-night, 
horsie,"  she  said,  and  snapped  off  the  electric- 
ity. A  single  light  still  burned  at  the  head  of  the 
beds. 

"  Is  that  the  light  you  used  to  want  Mam'selle 
to  leave  burning?"  she  asked,  standing  by  her 
bed. 

"Yes,"  replied  Junior.  He  had  fought  for  it 
with  each  new  nurse.  This  visitor  looked  easy 
to  command. 

Camilla  smiled  at  him.  "Who  ever  heard  of 
a  bird's  nest  under  a  bright  light?"  she  said. 
"Let's  start  with  it  out,  and  whenever  you 
ask  me  to  light  it,  I  will." 

This  seeming  fair  enough,  silence  gave  consent. 

"Lock  the  door,"  said  Junior  imperiously. 

"Oh,  did  Mademoiselle  lock  the  door?" 
Camilla  obediently  trailed  to  the  door. 

"Bring  me  the  key,"  pursued  the  child. 

"Why,  Junior,"  his  new  friend  laughed. 
"What  do  you  want  the  key  for?" 

"You  mean  to  go  away  in  the  morning  before 
I'm  awake,"  declared  Junior,  with  the  air  of 
a  bird  who  is  too  old  to  be  caught  with  chaff. 

120 


The  B&tes 


"Certainly  not,"  returned  Camilla.  "I 
promise  you  that  we'll  have  breakfast  to- 
gether." ' 

"Mam'selle  promised  me  things,"  said  the 
child. 

"Well,  my  promises  are  made  of  such  tough 
stuff  they  can't  break."  The  speaker's  eyes 
convinced  the  small  skeptic  before  her  even 
more  than  her  words. 

He  watched  silently  while  she  opened  the 
windows  and  put  out  the  remaining  light.  The 
crucial  moment  for  Junior  in  the  twenty-four 
hours  came  when  that  last  inexorable  snap  took 
place.  The  seal  of  silence  fell  on  the  mysterious 
room,  broken  only  by  the  snoring  of  Mademoi- 
selle. 

The  dying  fire  still  shed  a  dim  glow  to-night 
and  in  it  he  could  see  the  outline  of  his  compan- 
ion as  she  slipped  off  the  kimono,  hung  it  over  a 
chair  and  got  into  her  bed.  The  habitual  dread 
of  going  to  sleep  fell  over  Junior,  and  the  ha- 
bitual conviction  that  it  would  be  a  sin  to  speak 
after  a  grown-up  had  settled  to  rest.  It  was 
with  surprise,  then,  that  he  heard  Camilla  say 
with  a  pleasant,  sleepy  sigh :  "  Such  a  dear,  soft 
little  nest.  This  bird  is  very  happy." 

Happy!  In  the  dark!  In  this  room!  A  won- 

121 


The  Right  Track 


derful  sense  of  license  came  over  Junior.  It 
certainly  made  the  circumstances  less  awful  to 
speak  aloud,  voluntarily. 

"Is  the  bird  happy?"  he  asked. 

"Very,"  replied  Camilla.  "Have  you  said 
your  prayers,  yet?" 

"No.  Mam'selle  said  prayers  for  me.  She 
asked  the  bon  Dieu  to  make  me  a  good  boy  and 
keep  me  still." 

Camilla  felt  moisture  creep  slowly  on  her 
lashes. 

"It  protects  us  from  being  frightened  and 
having  bad  dreams  to  say  happy  prayers,"  she 
said  after  a  minute. 

"I  don't  know  any,"  replied  the  child.  "Is 
it  verses?" 

"Sometimes;  but  it's  things  you  can  make 
up  yourself.  You  never  have  to  wonder  what  to 
say  to  Daddy,  do  you?" 

"No;  but  Daddy's  so  busy." 

Camilla  swallowed.  "Yes,  I  suppose  so;  but 
this  wonderful  God  we  pray  to,  He's  never  too 
busy." 

"I  know  it,"  said  Junior.  "He  sees  me  when 
I'm  bad.  I  don't  care  if  He  does.  He  can't  do 
anything." 

"Only  good  things  —  only  loving  things," 

122 


The  Betes 


returned  Camilla  quietly.  "  He  is  your  Daddy's 
Father—" 

"  Is  He  my  grandpa,  then?  I  saw  his  picture. 
He's  awful  homely." 

Camilla  turned  her  face  into  the  pillow  for  a 
brief  space  and  it  shook. 

"No,  this  is  different,"  she  said  at  last. 
"God  is  the  Father  of  everybody  —  of  your 
father,  and  you,  and  me,  and  Mamabel,  and 
your  sister  —  and  everybody;  and  He  loves  us 
all  so  dearly  that  it's  easy  to  ask  Him  for  every- 
thing that's  right." 

"Then  could  I  ask  Him  to  take  away  the 
betes?" 

"Yes,  indeed.  What  do  you  think  I  asked 
Him  yesterday?"  Camilla  spoke  softly.  "I 
asked  Him  to  let  me  come  to  this  city  and  if 
there  was  a  little  boy  here  who  needed  me,  I 
asked  God  to  help  me  to  find  him.  I  did  n't 
have  the  baby  any  longer,  you  see,  and  it  seemed 
as  if  an  empty  place  in  my  heart  was  aching." 

Junior  felt  a  warmth  creep  up  into  his  cheeks 
in  the  darkness.  Camilla  put  her  hand  outside 
the  counterpane  near  him.  He  felt  her  move- 
ment and  slipped  a  very  small,  very  hot  hand 
into  hers.  She  held  it  closely. 

"God  loves  us  so  dearly,"  she  said  again, 
123 


The  Right  Track 


"that  we  may  call  Him  mother,  too.  Father- 
Mother  God.  Now,  let's  just  know  how  much 
we  love  Him  and  go  to  sleep." 

"  I  'm  going  to  ask  Him  something  first,"  said 
the  child.  "Will  He  hear  me?" 

"Indeed,  He  will." 

Upon  which  Junior,  straightening  back  on 
his  pillow,  shouted  loudly :  — 

"God,  I  want  Camel  not  to  go  away  to- 
morrow, nor  the  next  day,  nor  the  next  day,  — 
nor  the  next  —  nor  the  —  nor  — " 

The  small  body  relaxed  as  the  voice  grew 
fainter  and  the  pauses  longer,  and  with  the  last 
word  sleep  overcame  the  petitioner. 

Camilla  arranged  the  covers  over  him,  and 
sank  back  upon  her  pillow.  The  fire  flickered 
out.  The  spring  breeze  stirred  the  curtains, 
bringing  the  occasional  whir  of  motors ;  but  the 
street  was  not  a  thoroughfare  and  the  city  noises 
were  subdued.  Camilla  smiled  in  the  darkness. 
Surely  the  Magic  Music  was  increasing. 

She  had  no  idea  how  long  she  had  been  asleep 
when  a  cry  of  fear,  and  then  sobs  and  choking 
from  the  other  bed  awakened  her.  Junior  was 
thrashing  about,  half-awake  and  crying. 

"I  don't  care,  Mam'selle,  I  don't  care,"  he 
screamed  angrily. 

124 


The  Betes 


Camilla  put  her  hand  on  him.  He  knew  the 
heavy  hand  and  the  shaking  he  would  get  and 
how  the  wild  ends  of  her  red  ribbon  would  rear 
up,  and  he  fought  her  off. 

"I  won't,  I  won't!"  he  cried. 

"Wake  up,  dear.  It's  Camilla,"  she  said, 
and  the  gentle,  loving  voice  penetrated. 

"I  heard  'em;  I  heard  'em,"  he  cried  again, 
shaking,  but  remembering  at  last  who  was  with 
him  and  clutching  his  companion's  neck  as  she 
leaned  over  him. 

"Shall  I  turn  on  the  light?"  she  asked. 

"Yes,  oh,  yes!"  exclaimed  the  child,  with 
excited  relief. 

Camilla  turned  the  switch,  then  slipped  into 
her  bed  again,  and,  with  a  smile  toward  which 
the  terrified  child  turned  as  the  flower  turns 
toward  the  sun,  held  out  her  arms  and  the  boy 
crept  into  them,  trembling,  basking  in  her  kind- 
ness. 

"See  your  pony  over  there,"  she  said,  croon- 
ingly,  "  and  all  your  nice  toys.  See  how  much 
love  Daddy  and  everybody  had  to  get  you  so 
many  lovely  things.  This  room  is  full  of  love, 
Junior,  full,  full  of  love.  Nothing  else  can  get 
in.  What  a  pretty  room.  What  a  happy  little 
boy  I  have  in  my  arms." 


The  Right  Track 


Junior  pulled  himself  up  and  looked  all 
around  the  room  incredulously;  then  back  into 
the  deep  kindness  of  Camilla's  eyes. 

"Did  you  think  you  heard  lions  and  tigers?" 
she  asked,  as  he  sank  back.  "How  could  you, 
when  they  are  thousands  and  thousands  of 
miles  away  in  their  own  woods  where  they're 
so  happy  with  their  own  little  babies;  snug- 
gling up  close  to  them  and  licking  them  very 
softly  with  their  tongues.  They  don't  even 
know  there's  a  boy  away  off  in  this  country 
thinking  about  them.  Would  n't  they  be  sur- 
prised?" 

"Would  they?"  asked  Junior  hoarsely,  his 
tears  drying  on  his  cheeks. 

"  I  guess  they  would !  They'd  say,  'Does  that 
boy  think  we'd  leave  our  little  babies  alone  and 
go  and  visit  him?  Well,  I  guess  not!'" 

Junior's  eyes  entreated  her  for  reassurance 
and  she  smiled  at  him  and  gave  him  a  little 
squeeze.  "Ridiculous,  isn't  it?"  she  asked, 
and  the  child  gurgled  a  hoarse  agreement. 

"Now,  shall  we  put  out  the  light  and  go  to 
the  land  of  Nod  again?" 

"Where's  that?"  asked  Junior  suspiciously. 

"Where  the  sand-man  lives;  the  kind  little 
sand-man  who  makes  boys'  eyelids  fall  down 

126 


The  BJtes 


so  they  can  drop  into  the  land  of  Nod  and  pick 
flowers  there." 

"  I  hate  to  go  to  sleep,  Camel,"  confessed  the 
child  piteously. 

"But  that  will  all  be  changed  when  you  re- 
member that  this  room  is  full  of  love  and  that 
our  Father-Mother  God  sent  me  here  to  tell 
you  that  there's  nothing  in  the  whole  world 
to  be  afraid  of." 

"You  '11  let  go  of  me  if  you  put  out  the  light." 

"No,  I  '11  come  right  back,  and  hold  you  close 
till  you  know  that  there 's  nothing  to  dream  of 
but  flowers,  till  the  sun  peeps  in  at  us." 

"All  right,"  breathed  Junior;  and  when 
Camilla  came  back  to  bed,  she  let  him  cuddle 
into  her  arms  again;  and  long  after  he  was 
asleep,  she  lay  awake  with  her  peaceful,  thank- 
ful thoughts. 


CHAPTER  IX 

THE   TRIUMPHANT   CHORD 

THE  child  slept  so  late  the  next  morning  that 
Camilla's  toilet  was  finished  when  he  opened 
his  eyes. 

He  always  awoke  at  odds  with  the  world,  and 
this  morning  was  no  exception.  However,  when 
he  saw  Camilla  moving  about  the  nursery,  it 
startled  him  out  of  his  waking  mood. 

Before  she  had  observed  that  his  eyes  were 
open,  a  knock  sounded  at  the  door,  and  when 
Camilla  opened  it,  the  waitress  Bessie  appeared. 

"Good-morning,  miss.  Mr.  Barnes's  com- 
pliments," she  said,  "and  when  you're  ready, 
will  you  come  down  to  breakfast  ?  I  'm  to  bring 
Junior's  breakfast  up  and  give  it  to  him." 

"You  won't!"  exclaimed  the  boy  rudely. 
"She  promised  — " 

"Yes,  yes,  Junior,"  said  Camilla  hastily. 
"Will  you  please  tell  Mr.  Barnes  that  I  prom- 
ised to  have  breakfast  up  here?  Can't  I  come 
down  and  bring  it  up  myself?  It's  a  good  deal 
of  trouble  to  bring  two  breakfasts." 

"Oh,  no,  miss.  We  always  brought  two." 
128 


The  Triumphant  Chord 


"Very  well,  then.  We'll  be  ready  in  just  a 
few  minutes." 

"He's  got  a  dressing-gown,  miss,  that 
Mam'selle  uses  when  he  sleeps  late."  Bessie 
spoke  pleasantly.  She  was  relieved  not  to  be 
obliged  to  suffer  the  morning  mood  of  the  heir 
of  the  house,  and  she  went  to  the  closet  and 
produced  the  little  gown. 

Then  she  went  away  and  Camilla  approached 
her  charge. 

"Is  n't  this  a  beautiful  morning?"  she  said. 
"Up  with  my  boy,  and  into  the  tub  we  go." 

Junior  got  out  of  bed  mechanically.  His 
small  brain  was  busy.  He  remembered  no 
detail  of  all  that  had  occurred  in  the  middle  of 
the  night;  but  he  recollected  clearly  that  before 
going  to  sleep  he  had  informed  the  Creator  of 
his  wish  that  Camilla  should  remain  with  him. 
Being,  however,  a  misanthrope  and  decidedly 
of  the  conviction  that  Heaven  helps  those  who 
help  themselves,  he  was  planning  not  to  let  this 
wonderful  person  out  of  his  sight. 

The  nursery  was  a  large  room  and  Camilla 
noticed  a  door  on  the  opposite  side  from  the 
bathroom.  She  also  remembered  the  chaotic 
noises  in  there  last  evening. 

When  she  finally  fastened  the  small  frogs 
129 


The  Right  Track 


across  the  child's  finely  tailored  dressing-gown 
and  Junior's  brown  hair  was  brushed  smoothly, 
she  had  ascended  still  further  in  his  estimation. 
She  had  not  hurt  his  ears  washing  him,  nor 
pulled  his  hair. 

"Where  do  you  have  your  breakfast?"  she 
asked. 

"On  this  table,"  replied  the  boy,  pulling  at 
one  against  the  wall. 

"Would  n't  it  be  nice  if  we  could  go  into 
that  next  room  so  as  to  let  the  sun  and  wind 
fairies  sweep  and  dust  in  here?" 

Junior  regarded  her  solemnly,  and  she  won- 
dered if  he  ever  smiled. 

"I  don't  care,"  he  answered. 

Camilla  opened  the  door  of  the  deserted 
room.  There  were  signs  of  sudden  flight,  and  a 
pitcher  lay  broken  on  the  floor. 

She  gathered  up  the  pieces  in  a  paper,  pulled 
and  pushed  the  furniture  into  place,  and  by  the 
time  she  had  brought  in  the  table  and  opened 
all  the  windows  in  the  nursery  and  bathroom, 
Bessie  appeared  with  the  tray. 

"Mr.  Barnes's  compliments,  miss,  and  he 
told  me  to  say  that  he  would  come  up  here  as 
soon  as  he  finishes  breakfast." 

"That  will  be  nice,  won't  it,  to  see  Daddy? " 
130 


The  Triumphant  Chord 


said  Camilla  as  she  tied  the  little  boy's  bib. 
She  was  all  unconscious  that  in  this  operation 
she  was  making  herself  still  more  poignantly 
desirable  to  the  fragile  little  creature  because 
her  knuckles  did  n't  hurt  him  while  she  tied  it. 

"No,"  was  the  surprising  reply.  " Daddy 
does  n't  need  to  come  up  here." 

Experience  had  taught  the  child  that  self- 
control  was  sometimes  to  his  advantage.  He 
was  practicing  it  now  in  not  voicing  his  fears 
to  Camilla.  He  knew  very  well  that  Daddy  was 
coming  for  the  purpose  of  taking  his  new  friend 
away,  and  he  felt  that  she  was  too  yielding  to 
be  trusted  with  their  defense. 

Camilla  looked  at  him  with  yearning  com- 
passion. She  felt  intuitively  that  Mrs.  Barnes 
would  prefer  a  different  sort  of  person  installed 
in  her  house;  one  with  no  claims  of  old  friend- 
ship with  the  husband  who  had  evolved  into  a 
different  sphere  of  life. 

She  made  no  reply  to  Junior's  remark,  but 
set  his  breakfast  before  him  as  attractively  as 
possible.  She,  too,  felt  that  his  father's  visit  was 
to  be  a  vital  occasion,  and  she  felt  very  ten- 
der toward  the  flattering  jealousy  which  she  be- 
lieved underlay  the  child's  unwillingness  to  see 
the  only  member  of  the  family  whom  he  loved. 

131 


The  Right  Track 


"Well,  well,  here's  a  new  plan,"  said  Mr. 
Barnes  when  he  passed  through  the  wind-swept 
nursery  and  came  upon  the  pair  at  breakfast. 
"How's  my  little  son  this  morning?"  As  he 
spoke  he  stooped  and  kissed  the  child's  fore- 
head, then  seated  himself  near  by.  "What  of 
the  night,  Camilla?  You  look  as  if  you  had 
survived  it." 

Junior  had  ceased  eating  as  soon  as  his  father 
appeared,  and  now  with  his  well-brushed  head 
lowered,  he  was  looking  up  at  him  with  an 
expression  which  James  Barnes  saw  was  dis- 
tinctly inimical.  Thinking  the  pale  little  fellow 
was  in  an  unusually  cross  morning  mood  his 
heart  sank  with  the  expectation  that  Camilla 
would  decline  any  such  undertaking  as  this. 
Thinking  to  introduce  cheerful  and  jocose 
memories,  he  met  his  son's  fixed  gaze  and  con- 
tinued :  — 

"Did  the  bird  like  her  nest,  or  is  she  ready 
now  when  you  have  finished  breakfast  to  fly  off 
in  the  motor  with  me?" 

Here  was  Junior's  cue.  He  had  known  very 
well  that  this  was  his  father's  intention,  and 
gesturing  with  his  spoon,  he  delivered  himself 
as  follows,  with  many  nervous  gasps  and  fre- 
quent stuttering :  — 

132 


The  Triumphant  Chord 


"No!"  he  began  with  explosive  violence.  "I 
t — told  God  1 — last  night  that  I  wa — wanted 
Camel  to  st — stay  here  now  and  —  and  —  and 
all  the  days ;  and  G — God  will  do  what  I  — 
what  I  say;  'cause  —  'cause  Camel  said  so;  and 
if  —  if  you  t — take  her  away,  He  '11  b — b — burn 
you  up  in  hell,  'cause  I — I  saw  the  picture,  and 
the  —  the  devil,  he 's  got  a  —  a  fork  in  his 
tail—" 

"Darling!"  breathed  Camilla.  She  put  re- 
pressive arms  around  the  small,  tense,  jerking 
figure;  and  James  Barnes,  who  had  been  staring, 
his  jaw  fallen,  burst  into  riotous  laughter.  He 
rose,  apparently  to  get  his  breath,  and  walked 
the  floor  of  the  little  room,  starting  every  few 
steps  on  a  fresh  peal,  and  taking  out  his  hand- 
kerchief to  wipe  his  tearful  eyes.  Junior 
watched  him  inflexibly.  He  wanted  to  cry  him- 
self, but  this  was  no  time  for  such  indulgence. 
He  pushed  Camilla  away.  Judge  and  jury  must 
decide  this  case  before  the  amenities  of  life 
could  be  acceptable  from  anybody. 

At  last  the  severity  of  his  father's  spasm 
passed,  and  James  Barnes  turned,  still  laughing 
and  wiping  his  eyes. 

"Well,  Camilla,"  he  said,  "you've  heard.  Is 
your  interest  in  my  immortal  soul  sufficient 

133 


The  Right  Track 


to  keep  you  here  under  all  the  circumstances?" 

" I  'd  like  to  stay,  Jim.  It's  what  I  came  for," 
replied  Camilla  simply;  and  whatever  the 
others  might  feel,  in  her  ears  were  sounding 
triumphant  harmonies  that  sanctioned  and 
blessed  her  undertaking.  "  If  I  stay,  it  is  under- 
stood that  it  is  not  as  one  of  your  old  friends, 
but  as  Junior's  new  friend.  My  life  is  to  be 
lived  with  him,  I  take  my  meals  with  him.  We 
must  see  what  Mrs.  Barnes  says." 

James  Barnes  lifted  his  hands.  "She  will  say, 
'Mirabile  dictu,'"  he  returned.  "To-day  she 
won't  say  anything.  She  will  be  too  busy  read- 
ing her  paper  at  the  club.  I  have  learned  the 
title.  It  is  'Psychology  in  the  Nursery." 

The  grotesqueness  of  the  whole  situation 
combined  with  the  relief  of  the  father's  heart 
was  too  much  for  James  Barnes,  and  again  he 
shook,  and  paced  the  floor.  At  last  he  paused 
beside  his  boy.  "We 're  pretty  lucky,  little  son, 
eh,"  he  asked,  "to  have  a  dove  fly  right  down 
out  of  the  sky  and  light  in  your  nursery?" 

"Good-bye,  Daddy,"  was  Junior's  only  re- 
sponse. He  had  known  grown-ups  to  change 
their  minds. 

"Camilla,"  Mr.  Barnes  approached  her  and 
held  out  his  hand;  "you're  sending  me  down  to 

134 


The  Triumphant  Chord 


the  office  feeling  like  a  new  man."  He  spoke 
earnestly  and  with  a  grave  face.  "Tell  me 
your  hotel  and  let  me  have  your  traps  sent 
up." 

She  laughed  and  her  eyes  twinkled.  "There 
was  only  one  trap,  and  you  fell  into  it,"  she 
answered.  "The  truth  will  out.  Cherry  gave 
me  the  idea  that  I  might  be  useful  here  and  a 
suit-case  at  the  station  is  all  I  have  at  this  end 
of  the  route.  I  '11  give  you  the  check  for  that, 
if  I  may,  and  send  to  Brierly  for  my  trunk.  I 
left  everything  packed.  Now  you  know  the  full 
extent  of  my  brazenness." 

James  Barnes  looked  at  her  admiringly. 
"You're  a  wonder!"  he  exclaimed.  "Say, 
Camilla,"  with  sudden  happy  thought,  "what's 
the  matter  with  our  going  after  the  trunk?" 

Junior's  pallid  face  flushed.  "You'll  — 
you'll  -  "  he  began  threateningly. 

"You,  too,  you,  too,  I  mean,  little  chap," 
added  his  father  hastily.  "I  want  to  see  the 
farm  and  we'll  motor  out  to-morrow  if  it's 
pleasant." 

Then  Camilla  saw  what  she  had  not  yet  dis- 
covered, namely,  that  it  was  possible  for  her 
charge  to  smile.  It  was  a  pale  moonbeam  of  a 
smile  and  the  big  eyes  took  no  part  in  it;  but 

135 


The  Right  Track 


Junior  was  experiencing  a  moment  of  great 
contentment  in  which  he  dismissed  suspicions 
of  his  parent  and  received  him  back  into  favor. 
He  held  out  his  hand  and  James  Barnes  took  it 
and  kissed  him  again. 

"Good-bye,  Junior,"  he  said.  " I  may  differ 
with  you  on  some  points  of  theology,  but  in  the 
main  I  think  your  heart's  in  the  right  place 
and  you  certainly  know  how  to  pick  a  winner. 
Good-bye.  I  '11  go  and  scratch  gravel  extra  hard 
so  as  to  get  a  holiday  to-morrow." 

When  the  door  had  closed  upon  his  father, 
Junior  glanced  up  at  his  companion  with  a  sigh 
of  satisfaction. 

"You  see,"  she  said,  "it  was  right,  and  so  it 
came  to  us.  Now  we  must  finish  our  breakfast 
or  Bessie  will  think  we  're  very  slow." 

But  Junior's  feeble  appetite  was  satisfied. 
"I  don't  want  any  more,"  he  replied. 

"  I  do,"  said  Camilla,  taking  another  muffin. 
"These  are  delicious.  Did  you  ever  see  a  little 
bird  in  the  nest  open  its  mouth  to  be  fed  ?  You 
open  yours  and  I  '11  show  you  what  happens." 
Junior  opened  his  mouth  and  she  popped  in  a 
piece  of  the  muffin.  He  accepted  it,  and  it  was 
followed  by  a  spoonful  of  egg;  but  the  little  boy 
soon  wearied  of  the  game,  and,  leaning  back 

136 ' 


The  Triumphant  Chord 


in  his  chair,  looked  at  this  marvelous  new  play- 
mate, to  see  what  she  would  do  next. 

Camilla  drank  her  coffee;  then  drew  a  nap- 
kin over  the  tray. 

"Now,  then,  do  you  think  those  sun  and  wind 
fairies  are  through  in  the  nursery?"  she  asked. 

Camilla  had  an  eager,  happy  way  of  speaking, 
which  would  infuse  zest  into  the  most  listless; 
but  Junior  had  his  own  self-respect  to  maintain. 

"There  are  n't  any  fairies  —  I  know  that," 
he  said,  with  a  sophisticated  air. 

He  was  such  a  pale,  languid  little  specimen 
as  he  lay  back  looking  at  her,  that  Camilla 
longed  to  get  a  rocking-chair  in  some  quiet 
corner  and  gather  him  to  her  breast  for  the 
rest  of  the  day.  Instead  of  that  she  answered 
brightly :  — 

"All  right.  You  come  and  see!"  She  rose 
and  threw  open  the  nursery  door,  letting  in  a 
fresh  breath  of  wind.  She  closed  all  the  win- 
dows. Junior  got  down  from  his  chair  and  fol- 
lowed her. 

"That's  all,  this  morning,  little  breezes,"  she 
said.  "Thank  you  so  much.  That's  their 
name  —  breezes,"  she  explained,  as  she  untied 
Junior's  bib. 

A  long  patch  of  sunlight  filtered  down  be- 


The  Right  Track 


tween  this  house  and  the  next  and  lay  across  the 
rug. 

"  See  that  dear  sunbeam.  She  wants  to  stay. 
Shall  we  let  her?" 

Junior  still  felt  suspicious  that  this  was 
unmanly  sport.  It  was  daylight  now  and  he 
was  not  afraid  of  anything,  and  quite  captain 
of  his  soul. 

"We  can't  help  its  staying,"  he  said,  with 
a  superior  air. 

Camilla  raised  her  eyebrows  at  him  and  going 
across  to  the  window  lowered  the  shade.  The 
rug  became  a  dusky  patch. 

"Now  she's  outside,"  she  said  mysteriously. 
She  raised  her  voice.  "Do  you  wish  we'd  let 
you  in,  Sunbeam?"  She  asked  it  with  such 
apparent  sincerity  and  listened  at  the  window 
with  such  expectation  that  Junior  forgot  his 
dignity  for  the  moment  and  moved  to  the  win- 
dow, looking  tiny  in  his  smart  little  befrogged 
dressing-gown. 

"I'll  let  her  in,"  he  said,  and  snapped  up  the 
shade  with  a  vigor  that  would  have  won  him  a 
sharp  reprimand  from  Mademoiselle. 

The  sunshine  flowed  again  across  the  floor. 

"See  how  happy  she  is  to  run  back!"  cried 
Camilla. 

138 


The  Triumphant  Chord 


"Let's  —  let's  let  in  the  others  —  the 
breezes,"  suggested  Junior,  taking  hold  of  the 
window. 

"They're  a  little  too  cold  yet.  Every  day 
they'll  get  warmer;  but  can't  you  smell  how 
fresh  and  sweet  they've  made  the  room?  Now 
they  have  to  fly  away  to  Brierly  and  blow  all 
around  the  farm  and  get  it  ready  for  us  to 
come." 

"Do  they?"  asked  Junior  cautiously.  He 
wished  Camilla  to  understand  that  while  he 
might  indulge  her,  he  was  very  different  from 
that  baby  who  probably  liked  this  sort  of  thing. 

"Yes,  they're  the  busiest  fairies  in  the  world: 
breezes  everywhere,  sunbeams  everywhere,  and 
now  in  springtime  with  all  the  trees  and  flowers 
to  take  care  of,  and  with  all  the  little  leaves  and 
buds  they  have  to  coax  out,  you  can  imagine 
whether  we're  lucky  to  have  one  take  time  to 
lie  around  on  our  rug." 

While  Camilla  talked  she  was  taking  off  the 
little  dressing-gown  and  putting  on  Junior's 
day  clothes.  There  were  such  contagious  stars 
in  her  eyes  that  he  smiled  faintly. 

"Mam'selle  and  I  found  some  dandelions 
when  we  went  to  walk  yesterday,"  he  said. 
"  I  picked  'em." 

139 


The  Right  Track 


"That  was  fun,  was  n't  it?  They're  just 
about  the  first  flowers  to  pop  up  out  of  the 
ground  and  say,  'Hello.  Spring's  here.  Come 
on,  all  the  rest  of  you." 

Junior  looked  off,  considering.  Camilla  was 
doubtless  quite  silly,  but  he  liked  to  hear  her 
talk,  world-hardened  though  he  was. 

"Now,  then,"  she  continued,  when  his  tie 
was  adjusted  under  the  broad  collar,  "let's 
build  our  nests";  and  she  said  it  as  if  of  all  the 
fun  in  the  world  nest-building  was  the  most 
delightful. 

The  little  boy  did  n't  get  her  meaning  at 
once,  but  when  she  approached  the  beds,  both 
pulled  out  from  the  wall  and  with  mattresses 
upturned,  he  saw  what  she  meant  to  do. 

"Bessie  makes  the  beds,"  he  said.  "Mam- 
'selle  would  n't.  She  said  she  was  n't  a  —  a 
do — domestique. ' ' 

"What  an  idea!"  laughed  Camilla.  "Think 
if  you  were  a  bird  how  you  'd  like  to  have  some 
other  bird  build  your  nest." 

She  seized  the  mattress  of  Junior's  bed  and 
turned  it  over  into  place.  He  stood  still  in  the 
shaft  of  light  on  the  rug,  watching  her. 

"That  sunbeam  is  kissing  your  hair,"  she 
said.  "My!  It's  nice  to  be  loved  by  a  sunbeam; 

140 


The  Triumphant  Chord 


but  I  don't  believe  she  'd  mind  if  you  came  and 
helped  me  with  the  nest." 

"I  don't  know  how,"  said  Junior.  "Bessie 
does  it  all  alone." 

"Yes,  but  a  bird  never  builds  a  nest  alone. 
Its  mate  always  helps.  You  can  stand  on  the 
other  side  and  be  the  mate  if  you'd  like  to." 

Junior  walked  slowly  around  to  the  back  of 
the  bed  and  pulled  up  the  sheet  with  Camilla. 
Bessie  coming  in  for  the  tray  beheld  him  with 
amazement. 

"Sure,  I'd  do  that  for  you,  miss,"  she  said. 
Camilla's  smile  and  offer  to  bring  up  the  break- 
fast-tray had  won  her. 

"Junior  and  I  like  to  do  it,  thank  you,  Bessie. 
The  tray  is  in  the  other  room.  Now  goes  in  the 
soft  moss,"  said  Camilla,  as  the  child's  slow 
little  hands  helped  her  with  the  blanket. 

Bessie  told  the  tale  in  the  kitchen  to  the 
incredulous  cook. 

"It's  like  a  lamb  he  is,"  she  averred.  "The 
dago  at  the  corner  told  me  once  it  was  good  luck 
to  touch  a  hunchback.  Sure  Junior's  got  it. 
It's  the  first  bit  o'  luck  ever  come  his  way." 


CHAPTER  X 

BY  THE   FIRESIDE 

MABEL'S  paper  was  enthusiastically  received. 
She  entered  her  motor-car  that  afternoon  with 
the  plaudits  of  the  other  clubwomen  ringing  in 
her  ears.  Such  sympathy  with  childhood  was 
touching.  Such  grasp  of  the  necessity  of  strength 
fused  with  gentleness  was  inspiring.  She  wished 
that  Victor  might  have  heard  the  applause 
and  the  comments.  He  would  see  how  much 
truer  economy  of  force  it  was  to  inspire  the 
larger  motherhood  than  to  incapacitate  one's 
self  by  lying  awake  with  one  fretful  child. 

She  reached  home  in  a  glow  of  satisfaction, 
and  entered  the  house  holding  her  roll  of  manu- 
script and  wondering  if  she  should  yield  to  the 
strenuous  urging  of  her  admirers  to  have  it  pub- 
lished. 

Bessie  met  her  in  the  hall.  "Mr.  Barnes  left 
word  would  you  call  him  up  as  soon  as  you 
came  in,  ma'am." 

The  elation  died  out  of  Mabel's  face.  To  be 
sure,  she  did  have  a  husband.  She  proceeded  to 
her  sanctum  and,  throwing  off  her  wraps,  seated 

142 


By  the  Fireside 


herself  by  the  desk  and  picked  up  the  'phone. 
A  vague  and  irritating  wonder  concerning  Jun- 
ior assailed  her.  She  had  not  had  time  to  see  him 
before  she  went  out;  and  probably  her  husband, 
with  a  narrow  disregard  for  the  greatest  good 
to  the  greatest  number,  was  about  to  reproach 
her. 

Her  voice  as  she  called  him  was  cold  and 
defensive.  Somewhat  to  her  relief,  his  sounded 
natural. 

"Just  come  in,  Mabel?" 

"Yes,  this  minute." 

"Not  seen  Junior  yet,  then?" 

"No,  I  tell  you  I  'm  just  in;  my  wraps  are  not 
off.  I  received  your  message  and  thought  it 
might  be  something  important." 

"Well  it's  rather  surprising,  anyway.  When 
I  went  to  the  nursery  this  morning  I  found  the 
small  boy  has  taken  the  trouble  of  choosing  a 
governess  off  our  hands.  He  had  engaged  Ca- 
milla." 

Mabel  could  hear  her  husband's  mirth  at  the 
memory  penetrating  his  words. 

"Well,  you  know  how  I  feel  about  it,"  she 
answered. 

"I  don't  think  you  will  when  you  get  the 
whole  idea,"  was  the  quiet  reply.  "  That's  the 

H3 


The  Right  Track 


reason  I  wished  to  speak  to  you  before  you  saw 
Miss  Lovett.  She  consents  to  stay  on  condition 
that  she  is  no  more  one  of  us  than  Mam'selle 
was.  She  wishes  to  take  her  meals  with  Junior 
and  live  her  life  with  him." 

"She  is  a  most  inappropriate  person  for  the 
position,  however,"  said  Mabel  firmly.  "She 
can  have  no  beneficial  effect  on  Junior's  brain." 

"She  can  keep  it  sane,  I  imagine,  and  that's 
something.  Moreover,  I'm  more  interested  in 
adding  flesh  to  his  bones  than  information  to  his 
mind  just  now.  I  thought  I'd  explain  before 
you  saw  Camilla,  so  you'd  understand  that 
there  is  no  guest  business  about  it.  At  least,  it's 
a  solution  of  the  present  problem  until  you  see 
somebody  who  to  your  mind  fills  the  bill  better, 
and  it's  a  big  relief  to  me.  Have  a  successful 
time  at  the  club?" 

"Very,"  returned  Mabel  briefly. 

"Glad  to  hear  it.  See  you  in  an  hour.  Good- 
bye." 

They  both  hung  up  and  Mabel  stared  at  her 
desk  with  discontented  eyes. 

Why  should  James  talk  as  if  it  were  such  a 
dreadful  thing  for  Junior  to  be  left  one  day  or 
even  a  few  days  without  some  one  to  watch  his 
every  movement?  With  such  a  kind  maid  as 

144 


By  the  Fireside 


Bessie  in  the  house,  there  was  no  reason  why 
she  should  not  hurry  away  as  she  had  done  to- 
day without  making  any  special  inquiries. 

She  remembered  uncomfortably  that  she  had 
last  night  told  Camilla  she  might  steal  away  as 
early  as  she  liked  this  morning;  and  had  not 
troubled  herself  to  ask  questions  before  she 
went  out. 

"All  this  pampering  idea  is  absurd,"  she 
thought  as  she  rose  to  change  her  gown  for  din- 
ner. "Think  of  the  children  who  are  locked  in 
while  their  mothers  go  to  work.  They  grow  up 
as  well  as  any  other  children." 

When  her  careless  toilet  was  made,  —  of  late 
she  never  minded  ripped  lace  and  half  falling 
locks,  —  she  did  n't  even  consider  as  a  reason 
that  she  was  handsome  in  spite  of  them,  —  she 
went  to  the  nursery.  The  door  stood  ajar,  and 
before  she  entered  she  could  see  Camilla  in  a 
rocking-chair  before  the  sparkling  fire,  Junior's 
long  thin  legs  dangling  from  her  low  lap  and 
his  head  pillowed  on  her  breast.  It  was  a  com- 
fortable picture.  Mabel's  daily  visit  to  the 
nursery  had  always  been  the  signal  for  a  recital 
of  Junior's  peccadillos  through  all  his  waking 
and  many  of  his  sleeping  hours.  At  these  times 
the  stepmother  administered  the  reproofs  neces- 


The  Right  Track 


saiy  to  mollify  the  small  boy's  guardian,  and 
therefore  the  associations  with  her  visits  were 
such  that  when  Junior  heard  the  approaching 
step  and,  turning  his  head,  recognized  the 
visitor,  his  doubled  fist  beating  the  air  in  her 
direction  signified  all  the  repulse  of  which  it  was 
capable. 

Mabel  stood  there  in  her  trailing  gown  of  pale 
gray  crepe  with  touches  of  pink,  and  looked 
very  handsome  and  very  hard. 

Camilla  moved  slightly  back  from  the  fire, 
and  caught  the  beating  fist  in  her  free  hand. 

"Good  evening,  Mrs.  Barnes.  Will  you  excuse 
my  not  rising  with  such  a  big  lapful?  May  I 
pull  this  chair  up  for  you?" 

The  speaker  released  Junior's  fist  and  drew 
forward  a  neighboring  wicker  chair,  and  Mabel, 
after  a  moment's  hesitation,  sat  down. 

"My  husband  has  just  been  telling  me  that 
you  are  going  to  stay  with  Junior  for  a  time," 
she  said. 

"For  all  the  days,  all  the  days!"  exclaimed 
the  child,  sitting  straight  up  in  Camilla's  lap  and 
glaring  at  his  stepmother, "  and  if  —  and  if  you 
don't  want  her  to,  you'll  —  you'll  burn  up  in 
h— ." 

"Junior!"  Camilla  caught  his  hand.  "Don't 
146 


By  the  Fireside 


say  that  again.  Your  Mamabel  wants  what  is 
right.  We  all  want  what  is  right.  Yes,  Mrs. 
Barnes,"  —  she  turned  to  that  lady,  —  "I  have 
nothing  to  do  just  now  and  your  husband 
thought  I  might  fill  a  need  here.  It's  the  kind 
of  work  I  love." 

She  spoke  modestly,  and  smiled  at  Mabel 
with  winning  earnestness. 

"And  her  trunk's  at  Brierly,"  said  Junior, 
"and  we're  going  in  the  motor  to-morrow  to 
get  it  —  Daddy  and  Camel  and  me." 

"I,"  corrected  Mabel  mechanically. 

"  No,  not  you  1 ' '  exclaimed  Junior  with  scowl- 
ing vigor.  "Justus." 

"You  can't  have  the  car  to-morrow,"  said  his 
stepmother  with  dignity.  "I'm  sorry,  but  I 
have  an  important  engagement  for  which  I 
need  it." 

"We  will  have  it,"  cried  Junior,  nodding 
and  stammering  as  he  always  did  when  super- 
excited.  "We'll  go — go — early  in  the  mor — 
morning,  before  you  —  you  get  up." 

"Hush,  Junior,"  replied  Mamabel,  rising 
with  her  queenly  poise.  "You  are  a  very  silly, 
rude  little  boy  and  you  can't  always  have  your 
own  way.  I  will  see  you  again,  Miss  Lovett," 
she  added,  for  Junior  had  begun  to  cry  angrily, 

H7 


The  Right  Track 


and  nothing  afflicted  Mabel's  nerves  worse  than 
the  crying  of  a  child. 

She  left  the  room,  closing  the  door  behind  her; 
and  Camilla  tried  to  draw  Junior's  head  back 
on  her  shoulder.  He  resisted,  and  pounded  her 
breast  with  his  clenched  fist. 

She  put  him  down  off  her  lap  and  rocked  and 
gazed  at  the  fire. 

He  stared  at  her  through  angry  tears;  then 
all  his  woes  seemed  to  possess  him  at  once.  He 
could  n't  go  to  Brierly  in  the  motor  with  Daddy 
and  the  wonderful  one.  Also  he  had  pounded  the 
wonderful  one,  and,  tragedy  of  tragedies,  she 
had  put  him  away  from  her.  He  fell  on  his  face 
on  the  floor  and  howled  with  abandon. 

Camilla  steadily  dwelt  on  the  truth  about 
what  seemed  to  be  a  little  nervous  wreck;  then 
she  began  to  sing. 

Each  time  Junior  paused  to  take  breath  he 
could  hear  her  soft  voice  singing,  and  as  the 
child  loved  music  and  was  starved  for  it,  and 
Camilla's  voice  was  sweet  and  clear,  he  gradu- 
ally controlled  himself  to  listen.  This  was 
Camilla's  song:  — 


148 


By  the  Fireside 


CAMILLA'S  SONG 


1.  An    an  -  gel   flew  down-ward  from  heav  -  en's  gate    And 

2.  But  some  would  not  hark    to     the     an  -  gel's    lay — Their 

3.  She  float  -  ed    one   day     to       a    child's  true  heart,  Soft 


JjJ  J    F- 


came  to    the  earth  be  -  low.  .  .  She  sang  a  sweet  song  as  she 
earth  songs  they  loved  the  best. .  .  They  barred  her  out  when  she 
winged  as     a  snow  -  y      dove.   .  He  welcomed  her  in   and  her 


f 

3 


r 


wandered  far ;  The  peo-  pie  who  heard  tho't  it   fell  from  a   star 

tried  to   stay,  So,  sad  and  neg  -lect  -  ed    she  flew  .  .     a  -  way 

heav'n-ly  song  Made  ra-diant-ly   hap  -  py    his   whole    day  long, 


M^t- ^Ht—!±±- i— 1=& 

S^H-ty-^^  ^  m  ^^ 

JJO-J. 


149 


The  Right  Track 


^  K 1 . -^ "-IF* M *- &          ^ 

And  it  healed  all  their  care  and    woe,   It  healed  all  their  care  and  woe. 

Still  seek-ing  a   place    to        rest,  Still  seeking  a  place  to  .  rest. 
For  the  an  -  gel's  name  was      Love,The  an  -  gel's  name  was  Love. 


By  the  time  Camilla  had  finished  the  second 
verse,  Junior  had  slowly  pulled  himself  up  from 
the  floor  and  come  to  her  side.  She  put  her  arm 
around  him  and  went  on  singing  and  looking  at 
the  fire  while  he  leaned  against  her. 

There  was  a  moment's  pause  after  the  song 
ceased ;  then  the  little  boy  spoke :  — 

"Was  the  angel's  name  —  Love?"  he  asked 
with  a  deep  catch  in  his  breath. 

"Yes,  and  our  Father-Mother  God  sent  her; 
that  same  One  we  prayed  to  last  night.  Is  n't 
it  strange,  Junior,"  went  on  Camilla  very 
quietly,  "that  we  will  cry  and  grow  angry  and 
make  a  noise  instead  of  asking  God  for  what 
we  want?" 

"Will  He — will  He  give  us  the  car  to-morrow 
instead  of  Mamabel?" 

150 


By  the  Fireside 


"Yes,  unless  it's  right  for  her  to  have  it.  We 
want  what's  right,  don't  we?" 

"No,  I  want  the  car." 

"The  angel's  name  was  Love,"  said  Camilla. 
"Shall  we  make  it  with  your  blocks?" 

The  small  boy  assenting,  they  both  sat  on 
the  floor  and  built  the  word  so  that  it  stood 
in  aggressively  black  capitals  on  a  red  back- 
ground. 

"Now  I'll  make  a  word  and  see  if  you  can 
read  it,"  said  Camilla;  and  in  a  minute  her  own 
name  stood  upon  the  floor. 

Junior  read  it  letter  by  letter  laboriously: 
"C-A-M-I-L-L-A." 

"What  does  that  spell?"  she  asked.  Then 
as  he  looked  puzzled  she  smiled  at  him  and 
tapped  herself  on  the  chest. 

Junior  hung  his  head.  "The  place  I  slapped 
you?"  he  asked  slowly. 

She  leaned  over  and  kissed  his  cheek.  "You 
did  n't  know  what  you  were  doing,"  she 
answered.  "You  were  barring  the  angel  out, 
were  n't  you  ? " 

Then  she  picked  up  the  block  with  "E"  on  it 
and  placed  it  under  the  "I." 

"That  would  be  Camel,  would  n't  it?"  she 
asked;  "but  my  name  is  a  little  different." 


The  Right  Track 


Then  she  repeated  her  own  name  by  sylla- 
bles. 

"That's  my  name,"  she  said.  "Do  you  like 
it?" 

Junior  nodded. 

"Can  you  say  it?" 

He  said  it  after  her,  —  "Camilla." 

She  kissed  his  cheek  again.  "Now,  then," 
she  said  happily,  "we've  learned  two  things. 
The  angel's  name,  and  my  name." 

The  child  gave  her  his  faint,  moonlight  smile, 
and  at  this  moment  Mr.  Barnes  knocked  and 
entered. 

His  wife  had  told  him  that  Junior  was  having 
one  of  his  usual  tantrums  and  that  she  could  n't 
see  that  there  was  any  change  for  the  better  in 
his  surroundings  as  yet. 

He  was  relieved  that  all  was  quiet  when  he 
reached  the  nursery  door,  and,  upon  opening  it, 
was  surprised  to  see  a  peaceful  game  of  blocks 
going  on. 

Junior  got  up,  went  to  him  and  drew  him  by 
the  hand. 

"We  Ve  made  two  names  and  I  know  'em," 
he  said.  "Love,  and  Camilla." 

-"Aren't  they  the  same?"  asked  James 
Barnes,  with  a  grave  look  at  his  old  friend. 

152 


By  the  Fireside 


"No — o,"  returned  Junior  scornfully.  "Look 
how  different."  He  pointed  at  the  block  words, 
repeating  them  as  he  did  so. 

James  Barnes  sat  down  and  took  the  little 
figure  on  his  knee. 

"We  're  pretty  happy,  are  n't  we,  son,  to 
have  Love  and  Camilla." 

"Yes;  and  the  angel  came  in  the  little  boy's 
heart  and  he  did  n't  drive  her  away.  He  let 
her  sit  down  and  sing.  Sing  it  to  Daddy, 
Camel." 

Camilla  smiled  at  the  child  and  pointed  to  her 
block  name.  "  Sing  it,  Cam-il-la,"  he  said  obedi- 
ently. 

"I  don't  sing  to  grown-up  people;  just  to 
little  folks,"  she  answered,  pink  coming  into 
her  cheeks. 

"Yes,  yes"  ordered  Junior  imperiously.  "My 
daddy '11  like  it." 

"Do,  Camilla,"  said  Mr.  Barnes.  "A  nice 
orderly  room,"  —  he  glanced  around  the  apart- 
ment whose  neatness  had  impressed  him  on  en- 
tering,—  "a  nice  snapping  fire,  a  good  little 
boy  who  always  says  ' please'  when  he  wants  a 
nice  lady  sitting  on  the  floor  to  sing  to  him,  and 
a  daddy  all  ready  to  listen." 

"PI — please,"  said  Junior,  nodding  at  the 
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The  Right  Track 


little  woman  sitting  Turkish  fashion  on  the 
floor. 

"  Let 's  put  her  in  a  comfy  rocking-chair  first." 
And  James  Barnes,  holding  the  child  in  one 
arm,  rose  and  gave  his  other  hand  to  Camilla ; 
but  she  rose  nimbly  without  help  and  seated 
herself  in  her  lately  vacated  chair. 

"You  can  sing  it  with  me,  perhaps,  Junior," 
she  said,  and  then  her  sweet,  natural  voice  be- 
gan the  song. 

Junior  leaned  his  head  against  his  father's 
shoulder  and  listened  with  satisfaction. 

At  the  close  of  the  last  line  he  repeated  in 
a  thin,  gentle  little  tone,  which  tried  to  sing 
the  air:  "For  the  Angel's  name  was  Love." 
Then  his  hollow  eyes  lost  their  far-away  expres- 
sion and  he  sat  up  in  his  father's  lap,  coming 
back  to  affairs  of  real  life.  "Mamabel's  hateful 
and  mean,  Daddy.  She  says  she  '11  take  the  car 
to-morrow  and  we  have  to  get  Camel  —  Cam- 
il-la's  trunk." 

"First,  we  thank  Miss  Lovett  for  her  pretty 
song." 

"And  then  we  don't  bar  out  the  angel,"  said 
Camilla,  meeting  the  child's  eyes. 

"What  angel?"  he  asked  defiantly. 

"Love,"  she  answered. 
154 


By  the  Fireside 


"Yes!"  exclaimed  the  child,  with  all  the 
vociferousness  at  his  feeble  command.  "  I  want 
to  be  bad,  and  hate  Mamabel." 

His  father  gave  him  a  little  shake.  "Look 
here,  young  man,  you  won't  go  a  step  to  Brierly 
if  you  talk  that  way." 

Junior's  eyes  filled  with  tears.  He  swallowed 
several  times  before  he  was  able  to  voice  a  stam- 
mering threat. 

"I'll  —  I'll  —ask God,  and  then  I— I  guess 
you  '11  —  you  '11  be  sorry." 

Camilla  came  close  and  took  hold  of  his 
hand.  "You  see  Junior  wants  to  do  right  and 
be  happy  just  as  we  all  do,"  she  said.  "Mrs. 
Barnes  did  n't  know  you  wanted  the  car;  so 
she  made  another  plan;  but  I  want  to  tell 
you  both  what  I  Ve  been  thinking.  I  Ve  been 
thinking  that  it's  a  very  long  ride  in  the  motor 
for  this  little  boy  just  now — "  Junior  pulled 
away  his  hand  and  raised  a  threatening  fist  — 
"and  I  wondered  if  it  would  n't  be  more  fun 
for  us  all  to  go  in  the  train." 

The  small  fist  fell  and  Junior's  gloomy  eyes 
became  reflective. 

James  Barnes  nodded.  "I  see,"  he  returned 
quietly.  "I  think  you're  right." 

"Yes,  let's  go  in  the  train,"  said  Junior,  to 
155 


The  Right  Track 


whom  the  motor  was  an  old  story  and  a  steam 
engine  a  rare  sight. 

"And  I  want  to  tell  you  something,  Junior," 
continued  his  father  in  the  same  quiet  tone. 
"It  seems  to  me  this  nursery  would  be  a  pretty 
lonely  place  if  Miss  Lovett  should  get  tired  of 
hearing  you  say  rude  things  and  behave  like 
a  bear  instead  of  a  boy,  and  should  go  away." 

Junior's  response  was  a  surprise.  "Bears  love 
their  babies,"  he  said,  with  a  far-away  look, 
"and  they  lick  them  —  so,"  and  he  illustrated 
with  his  tongue  on  his  father's  hand. 

James  Barnes  bit  his  lip.  It  struck  him  that 
the  teaching  of  the  last  twenty-four  hours  must 
have  been  all-embracing. 

"If  you  don't  want  Camilla  to  fly  away  to 
another  nest  you  'd  better  mend  your  manners." 

Junior  looked  very  solemn  under  this  im- 
possibly awful  suggestion.  He  was  glad  his 
father  did  not  know  that  he  had  struck  his  new 
friend  a  few  minutes  ago.  Mam' selle  would  have 
told  of  it  as  soon  as  his  daddy  entered  the  room. 
Camilla  started  to  speak  again,  and  he  wondered 
for  an  instant  if  she  were  going  to  tell. 

"Junior  has  some  very  wonderful  things  to 
learn,"  she  said  slowly.  "He  has  to  learn  what 
the  real  things  are  in  the  beautiful  world  God 

156 


By  the  Fireside 


made.  He  has  to  learn  that  hating  and  striking 
don't  bring  him  anything.  They  are  n't  real 
things  any  more  than  the  tigers  were  real  that 
he  thought  were  behind  the  screen.  Hating  and 
striking  make  him  unhappy  just  as  those  make- 
believe  lions  and  tigers  did,  but  they're  none  of 
them  real." 

Junior's  gaze  rested  deep  in  those  wells  of 
light,  Camilla's  eyes.  A  very  novel  sensation 
rose  in  his  breast,  rose  and  swelled  and  filled  his 
throat  and  then  his  eyes.  He  suddenly  turned 
his  face  against  his  father's  breast  and  wept 
softly,  quietly. 

"What  is  it,  son?"  asked  James  Barnes  in 
surprise,  holding  the  pathetic  little  figure  close. 

The  need  for  confession  sent  convulsive  words 
to  the  child's  lips.  They  were  just  audible. 

"I  p — pounded  Cam-ilia,"  he  sobbed;  and 
the  father  smiled  across  at  his  old  friend  with 
a  lump  in  his  own  throat:  tribute  to  his  son's 
first  tears  of  repentance. 


CHAPTER  XI 

ELM   FARM 

IT  was  such  a  May  day  as  the  poets  sing  when 
James  Barnes,  Camilla,  and  Junior  took  the 
train  for  Brierly.  It  was  hard  to  tell  which  of 
the  trio  was  best  satisfied  as  they  descended  at 
the  station  and  found  waiting  the  carryall  for 
which  Mr.  Barnes  had  telegraphed. 

Exaggerated  accounts  of  his  wealth  and  im- 
portance were  afloat  in  his  home  village,  and 
the  news  that  he  was  coming  had  circulated 
freely  since  the  arrival  of  the  telegram  to  Pete 
Miller  last  evening. 

"Jim  Barnes  is  all  right,"  was  the  consensus 
of  opinion  in  the  village;  and  the  few  friends  who 
had  made  it  a  point  to  happen  in  at  the  general 
store,  situated  near  the  depot,  at  the  time  of  the 
train's  arrival,  had  a  double  excitement  in  seeing 
Camilla  Lovett  in  company  with  the  great  man 
and  in  charge  of  the  big-eyed,  pale-faced  heir 
of  the  house  of  Barnes. 

Mr.  Barnes  satisfied  all  the  stragglers  with 
his  bluff,  cheerful  greeting,  and  finally  succeeded 
in  getting  started  on  the  road  to  the  farm. 

The  driver,  whose  desk  in  school  had  been 
158 


Elm  Farm 


next  to  that  of  his  passenger  in  the  days  when 
they  snow-balled  together,  showed  none  of  the 
satisfaction  which  he  felt  on  being  secure  of 
half  an  hour's  tete-a-tete  with  the  visitor.  Ca- 
milla and  Junior  were  stowed  away  on  the  back 
seat,  and  circumstances  favored  Pete  Miller. 

"Sorry  for  Metcalfs  trouble,"  said  Mr. 
Barnes  as  the  horse  started.  "Has  n't  made  a 
go  of  the  farm,  either,  I  understand." 

Pete  expectorated  deftly  from  the  side  of  the 
carryall. 

"No,  not  a  chance  for  his  sort,"  he  returned. 
"He  don't  belong  to  this  part  o'  the  country  any 
way,  and  even  if  he  had  his  health  he  don't 
know  how  to  get  along.  Another  case  of  an 
abandoned  farm,  I  guess.  Lucretia  's  been  there 
helpin'  'em  the  last  week  or  two.  Mrs.  Metcalf  's 
so  scared  and  down  in  the  mouth  and  worried 
over  money  matters  —  I  guess  buyin'  the  farm 
took  all  they  had.  They  had  the  idea  that  livin' 
close  to  the  soil,  as  the  sayin'  is,  would  set 
him  up  and  make  him  vigorous ;  but  it  has  n't 
worked  out.  Lucretia 's  been  stayin'  there 
nights,  too,  lately." 

"How  is  Lucretia?"  asked  Mr.  Barnes  with 
reflective  interest. 

"You  ask  that!"  drawled  Pete.  "Git  ap, 
159 


The  Right  Track 


General.  Don't  you  know  folks  that's  made 
o'  steel  springs  without  an  ounce  o'  flesh  extra 
are  always  up  to  snuff?" 

"Lucretia  always  was  smart,"  returned 
James  Barnes. 

"Yes.  Kind  o'  goes  against  her  that  I  drive 
the  livery,"  said  Pete.  "  Seems  to  think  't  ain't 
active  enough."  The  speaker  straightened  up  a 
little  from  the  position  of  slouching  comfort 
in  which  he  was  holding  the  reins  between  his 
knees.  "I  asked  her  if  she'd  like  it  any  better 
if  I  was  to  run  alongside  the  hoss." 

James  Barnes  smiled.  Pete  Miller  was  a 
widower,  and  he  and  his  spinster  cousin  had 
lived  together  for  some  years  in  the  ancestral 
cottage;  a  tumbledown  affair  in  spite  of  Lu- 
cretia's  indefatigable  efforts  to  prop  it  up  and 
mend  it  up;  efforts  in  which  Pete  was  always 
too  busy  to  cooperate. 

"I've  lived  out  o'  cans  mostly  for  two  weeks 
past  'count  o'  the  Metcalfs,"  continued  the 
driver.  "  I  '11  be  glad  when  they  can  scrape  the 
funds  together  to  take  'em  off  where  they  ought 
to  go.  'T  ain't  goin'  to  be  an  easy  matter  to  sell 
that  farm,  though.  The  folks  that  bought  it  o' 
your  father  was  awful  pleased  to  slide  it  off 
onto  Metcalf." 

160 


Elm  Farm 


Mr.  Barnes  looked  at  the  landscape.  Buds 
were  leafing  in  the  deceptive  embraces  of  the 
warm  May  sunshine. 

He  turned  around  to  the  silent  pair  on  the 
back  seat  of  the  old  carriage. 

"Lucretia  will  be  surprised  to  see  you,  Ca- 
milla," he  said. 

"Does  she  know  you  are  coming?"  asked 
Camilla. 

"Yes.  I  wired  Mr.  Metcalf  last  night." 

The  reply  was  quiet  and  gave  no  hint  of  the 
relief  and  thankfulness  which  that  long  and 
comprehensive  telegram  had  carried  to  the 
discouraged  dwellers  at  the  farm. 

"See  that  big  rock,  Junior?"  continued  Mr. 
Barnes,  as  they  passed  a  smooth  mound  of 
granite  by  the  roadside.  "I  remember  when 
that  rock  was  a  mountain.  Do  you  think  it 
would  be  fun  to  slide  down  it?" 

"  I  don't  know,"  replied  the  fragile,  unsmiling 
little  boy,  regarding  the  rock  with  grave  inter- 
est. 

"Well,  take  my  word  for  it,  it  is.  I'll  show 
you  some  day."  The  speaker  smiled.  "I  re- 
member when  Lucretia  used  to  plant  her  feet 
in  my  back,  and  I  mine  in  yours,  Pete,  and  we 
went  down  that  rock  like  a  limited  express." 

161 


The  Right  Track 


Pete  grinned.  "And  we  got  warmed  some  for 
wearin'  out  the  seats  of  our  trousers." 

"I  guess  we  did;  but  then  the  slices  of  fresh 
bread  hot  out  of  the  oven  that  your  mother  used 
to  give  us  —  I  '11  never  forget  how  those  tasted. 
They  were  an  inch  thick  and  the  butter  melted 
on  them;  and  if  I  could  digest  one  now,  I  should 
consider  myself  an  ostrich.  There's  the  very 
door  they  came  out  of." 

Near  the  great  rock  was  a  small  house,  faded 
as  to  paint,  and  with  a  little  ploughed  ground. 

The  Miller  cottage  was  the  nearest  neighbor 
to  Elm  Farm,  and  now  on  the  other  side  of  the 
street  the  broad  acres  of  James  Barnes's  old 
home  came  into  view.  Dividing  the  wide  mea- 
dow land  stood  a  long  avenue  of  elm  trees  just 
coming  into  leaf,  their  branches  touching  and 
sometimes  locking  to  make  a  Gothic  arch.  To 
all  but  Junior  the  scene  was  familiar  and  the 
little  boy  regarded  it  with  some  interest  as 
Pete's  white  horse  turned  lumberingly  into  the 
avenue.  His  father's  bedtime  stories  in  the  era 
before  Mamabel  came  had  always  been  of  the 
farm.  There  was  the  brook,  which,  winding 
through  the  meadow,  ran  beneath  the  raised 
wood  road  and  hurried  out  on  the  other  side  to 
run  past  the  cornfield  and  on  into  a  mysterious 

162 


Elm  Farm 


thicket  of  oaks  and  maples  where  a  pond  with 
stoned  sides  had  once  held  fish,  but  now  was  the 
domain  of  huge  bullfrogs  whose  voices  resounded 
through  the  magic  wood. 

The  house  was  set  on  a  rise  of  ground. 

At  the  end  of  the  avenue  the  road  forked,  one 
path,  for  the  butcher  and  baker,  leading  up- 
hill to  the  kitchen  door,  and  one  sweeping  up  to 
the  front  piazza  of  the  roomy  farmhouse.  Be- 
tween these  roads  was  a  triangular  hillside  of 
grass,  studded  to-day  with  dandelions.  The  elm 
avenue  ran  east  and  west,  the  house  at  right 
angles  with  it  faced  south ;  and  across  the  road 
in  front  of  the  house  two  wide  terraced  steps  of 
grass  stood  at  the  top  of  the  hillside,  at  the  foot 
of  which  flowed  the  brook  which  found  its  way 
through  the  meadow.  This  brook  had  its  source 
in  a  large  pond,  which  fell  over  a  dam  in  a  pleas- 
antly noisy  waterfall,  and  the  pond  was  bor- 
dered thickly  with  trees. 

James  Barnes,  standing  at  the  moment  of 
arrival  on  the  worm-eaten  piazza,  looked  off 
at  the  irregular,  hilly  sky-line  with  satisfaction. 
At  each  end  of  the  terraced  grass  stood  an  im- 
posing elm  tree. 

Everything  about  the  place  was  shabby  and 
betokened  a  meager  pocketbook. 

163 


The  Right  Track 


"I  may  be  a  fool,"  he  thought,  "and  Mabel 
will  be  sure  to  disapprove;  but  I  can  afford  to  be 
a  fool,  at  any  rate;  and  some  good  may  come  of 
it  to  the  boy." 

The  stir  of  arrival  had  been  noted  from  within, 
and  now  a  little  woman  with  circles  around  her 
eyes  and  smiles  on  her  lips  opened  the  door. 
She  could  scarcely  speak  as  she  clasped  James 
Barnes's  hand  and  her  eyes  shone  with  sudden 
tears. 

He  introduced  Camilla  and  Junior  to  Mrs. 
Metcalf,  and  she  took  them  all  within. 

Mr.  Metcalf  was  abovestairs,  saving  his 
strength  for  the  interview  with  the  man  who  had 
lifted  his  cares  with  such  suddenness. 

"We'd  like  to  go  to  Boston  this  afternoon  if 
it's  a  possible  thing,"  said  Mrs.  Metcalf.  "My 
sister's  there  and  will  help  us  get  started  for  the 
West." 

"Certainly  you  can,"  replied  Mr.  Barnes. 
"You  remember  I  told  you  I  'd  take  everything, 
furniture  and  all,  just  as  it  stands." 

"Oh,  I  do,"  said  the  little  woman,  biting  her 
lip  for  self-control.  "Lucretia  and  I  have  been 
up  all  night  packing.  We  were  so  glad  —  so 
thankful  —  " 

"That's  all  right,"  returned  James  Barnes 
164 


Elm  Farm 


when  her  voice  failed  her.  "It's  the  begin- 
ning of  good  times  for  you,  you  may  be  sure; 
and  there  's  Lucretia  now,"  he  added  with  relief, 
as  a  tall,  angular  form  in  a  collarless  dress  and 
long  gingham  apron  appeared  from  the  back 
of  the  hall. 

Lucretia  was  just  as  good  as  anybody  and 
she  remembered  Jim  Barnes  in  school;  but  dur- 
ing thirty  years  she  had  seldom  seen  him;  and 
to  all  appearances  a  stranger  stood  before  her 
now,  a  city  man  in  a  light  spring  overcoat.  He 
would  not  have  recognized  her  but  that  Pete 
had  said  she  was  here,  and  had  described  her 
steel-spring  anatomy.  He  thought  he  could  see 
signs  of  it  now  in  her  rigid  throat,  as  she  gave 
him  her  hand  awkwardly. 

"How  do  you  do,  Mr.  Barnes?"  she  said. 
"We've  been  blessin'  you  all  night,  Mrs.  Met- 
calf  and  me." 

"That  must  be  why  I  feel  so  good  to-day," 
returned  the  grain  dealer. 

"And  after  you  've  talked  with  my  husband," 
said  Mrs.  Metcalf,  "  Lucretia 's  going  to  give 
you  all  your  dinner." 

"Oh,  we  did  n't  expect  that.  I  thought  to 
send  Pete  over  to  the  Shanklins'  and  tell  them 
we  would  descend  on  them  pretty  soon." 

165 


The  Right  Track 


"No,  you  won't,"  said  Lucretia  firmly. 
"We  Ve  got  corned  beef  and  cabbage  enough 
for  all." 

"Then  you  could  n't  drive  me  away,"  de- 
clared James  Barnes  heartily;  and  then  he  fol- 
lowed Mrs.  Metcalf  upstairs,  while  Lucretia 
greeted  Camilla  as  an  old  friend  and  met  Junior, 
who  regarded  her  with  curiosity,  especially  her 
bare  arms  with  their  stringy  muscles. 

"  I  '11  take  you  to  the  spare  room  and  let  you 
wash  your  face  if  you  want  to,"  said  Lucretia, 
regarding  Camilla  with  as  great  curiosity  as  the 
small  boy  showed  about  herself. 

"You  was  always  close-mouthed,  Camilla," 
she  said  as  they  moved  away.  "Cherry  Shank- 
lin  told  me  about  New  York  settin'  you  up  so 
fine,  but  I  don't  believe  she  knows,  does  she, 
that  you're  so  friendly  with  the  Barneses  as  all 
this." 

"It's  only  two  days,  Lucretia,"  replied  Ca- 
milla; "so  I  scarcely  know  it  myself.  I  went 
there  and  found  this  little  boy  wanted  some  one 
to  work  and  play  with,  so  I  was  glad  to  stay." 

"It's  a  real  good  place,  too,  I  guess,"  said 
Lucretia,  ushering  them  into  the  chill  white 
spare  room  and  pouring  water  into  the  wash- 
bowl. "I  know  't  was  just  like  a  message  fallin' 

166 


Elm  Farm 


down  out  o'  heaven  when  Pete  brought  up  the 
telegram  from  Mr.  Barnes  last  night,  tellin'  how 
he'd  take  the  whole  farm  and  everything  on  it, 
'lock,  stock  and  barrel,'  and  give  'em  money 
down  to  go  West  with.  It'll  like  as  not  save 
Mr.  Metcalf  s  life." 

Camilla  smiled  at  Junior  with  one  of  her 
happy,  mysterious  looks :  — 

"And  this  was  all  a  secret  from  us,  was  n't 
it,  Junior?  Daddy  never  told  us  he  was  coming 
to  his  own  farm!" 

Junior  yielded  his  hands  tobe  washed.  "Law," 
said  Lucretia,  "I  did  n't  know  I  was  lettin'  any 
cat  out  o'  the  bag.  It  has  n't  leaked  out  in  the 
village  yet,  I  guess.  Folks  '11  be  some  stirred  up 
when  they  know  this  is  going  to  be  the  Barneses' 
farm  again.  What  a  peaked  young  one,"  added 
Lucretia,  regarding  Junior  calmly. 

Camilla  shook  her  head  at  her  friend  over  his 
unconscious  head. 

"Oh,"  said  Lucretia,  "I  did  n't  say  anything, 
only  't  he  looks  kind  o'  meachin'." 

"  I  wonder  if  Mr.  Barnes  thought  to  speak  to 
Pete,"  said  Camilla.  "We  expected  to  drive 
over  to  the  Shanklins'  for  dinner.  What  do  you 
suppose  Pete  's  doing?" 

"I  s'pose  he's  holdin'  down  the  seat  o'  that 
167 


The  Right  Track 


carryall,"  returned  Lucretia  acidly.  "I'd  bet- 
ter go  and  tell  him  to  go  back." 

"Oh,  I  wouldn't,"  replied  Camilla  quickly; 
"not  until  Mr.  Barnes  says  so.  I  don't  know 
what  the  plans  are.  Can't  I  set  the  table  for 
you,  Lucretia  ? " 

"It's  all  set;  but  I  must  go  back  to  the 
kitchen  and  get  your  dinner  ready.  I'll  be 
back  to  my  own  house  to-morrow.  I  dread  to 
see  what  a  pigpen  it'll  be  with  Pete  lumberin' 
around  there  alone  and  spillin'  everything  he 
touches." 

But  Lucretia's  plans  were  destined  to  a 
change. 

After  Pete's  horse  had  had  a  meal  from  the 
scanty  store  in  the  barn,  and  the  family,  all  but 
Mr.  Metcalf,  had  eaten  dinner,  the  invalid  well 
wrapped  was  placed  in  the  carriage  and  with 
happy  and  grateful  farewells  started  for  the 
train,  Pete  being  armed  with  a  telegram  to  send 
from  the  station  to  the  sister,  and  with  orders 
to  return  with  a  wagon  for  the  trunks.  He  ac- 
cepted his  mission  with  relish.  It  was  a  trium- 
phant moment  for  him  to  be  the  first  one  to 
inform  the  village  that  Jim  Barnes  had  bought 
back  the  old  homestead. 

When  the  carriage  had  gone,  Camilla  and 
168 


Elm  Farm 


Junior  went  out  on  the  rough,  neglected  terrace 
to  pick  dandelions.  Camilla  looked  about  the 
place  with  a  good  deal  of  interest  on  her  own 
account.  Squire  Barnes  had  been  an  object  of 
awe  and  admiration  to  her  childhood,  and  such 
sense  of  aristocracy  as  may  obtain  in  a  New 
England  village  had  found  a  representation  at 
Elm  Farm,  where  the  former  owner  had  made 
it  his  pleasure  to  keep  the  grass  about  the  house 
velvety  and  the  trees  well  trimmed.  There  had 
been  an  atmosphere  of  rural  elegance  about  the 
place  in  those  days,  and  the  memory  was  as 
green  with  Camilla  as  the  grass  she  was  tread- 
ing. 

"It's  stranger  than  fiction,"  she  thought, 
"that  I  should  be  here,  at  home,  even  for  a 
day." 

"I  saw  the  steel  springs  in  her  neck,"  an- 
nounced Junior,  breaking  in  on  her  meditations 
while  he  added  to  the  golden  bouquet  in  his 
hand. 

"What's  that?" 

"The  man  in  the  carriage  said  she  was  made 
of  steel  springs,  and  I  saw  'em  jump  up  and 
down  in  her  neck  while  we  ate  dinner." 

Camilla  laughed.  "What  busy  eyes  my  boy 
has !  You  must  be  careful  not  to  say  anything 

169 


The  Right  Track 


to  hurt  Lucretia's  feelings.  Her  cousin  was  just 
being  funny  when  he  said  that." 

"Was  she  being  —  funny  when  she  called  me 
—  those  things  upstairs?" 

"Oh,  yes,  indeed.  Lucretia  's  very  kind.  She 
only  meant  it  would  be  nice  for  you  to  roll 
around  in  this  sunshine  on  the  grass  and  drink 
a  lot  of  milk  and  get  red  cheeks.  These  peo- 
ple that  live  in  the  country  are  used  to  red 
cheeks." 

Meanwhile  James  Barnes  had  sought  Lu- 
cretia where  she  was  clearing  up  the  remains  of 
dinner  in  the  kitchen.  She  was  surprised  and 
not  overly  pleased  to  see  him  in  the  midst  of  her 
disorder.  His  well-groomed  person  and  his  city 
clothes  were  out  of  place  here  and  made  her 
feel  awkward  in  spite  of  the  well-known  fact 
that  she  was  just  as  good  as  anybody. 

"I  need  to  talk  with  you,  Lucretia,"  he  said. 
"Can  you  spare  time?" 

It  was  a  fortunate  beginning.  Lucretia  wiped 
her  veined  hands  on  a  clean,  ragged  roller  towel. 
"I  guess  so,"  she  answered.  "The  days  are 
long,  and  I  kind  o'  feel  as  if  the  world  had  rolled 
off  my  shoulders  now  those  folks  are  gone." 

"Then  suppose  we  come  in  here  by  the  din- 
ing-room table,"  said  James  Barnes. 

170 


Elm  Farm 


He  had  a  sheet  of  foolscap  paper  and  a  pencil 
in  his  hand. 

"Mrs.  Metcalf  says  she  does  n't  know  what 
they'd  have  done  without  you,"  he  remarked, 
as  they  sat  down  at  the  table  still  covered  with 
a  coarse  and  patched  tablecloth. 

"Well,  I  dunno  either,  to  tell  the  truth,"  re- 
plied Lucretia  bluntly.  "  She  has  n't  any  faculty 
*  and  he  has  n't  any  health.  They  might  'a' 
known  farm  life  wa'n't  the  thing  for  them." 

"What  do  you  think  of  my  buying  back  this 
place,  Lucretia?  Do  you  believe  it's  good  busi- 
ness?" 

"Yes,  for  the  Metcalfs,"  was  the  dry  reply, 
the  thin  lips  twitching  in  a  smile. 

"You  think  I'm  foolish,  eh?" 

"Well,  you  may  as  well  know  it  first  as  last: 
this  farm's  petered  out.  It'd  take  a  lot  o' 
money  to  make  it  worth  anything  again.  I  'm 
glad  you  done  it  'cause  those  poor  folks  was  at 
f  their  last  gasp.  There's  a  cow  in  the  barn,  but 
that's  the  last  o'  their  critters;  and  this  table- 
cloth" —  Lucretia  lifted  the  threadbare  da- 
mask —  "is  a  good  sample  o'  the  furnishin's 
you  '11  find  all  over  the  house.  There  ain't  any- 
body that  could  pare  a  cheese  any  thinner  than 
they've  pared  theirs  for  a  year  past,  and  what- 

171 


The  Right  Track 


ever  you've  paid  for  the  whole  business,  it's 
too  much;  but  Pm  glad  of  it"  finished  Lucretia 
defiantly.  "You  ain't  as  bad  off  as  they  are  at 
that."  ' 

"Right  you  are,"  said  James  Barnes,  laugh- 
ing; "and  Lucretia,"  he  added,  sobering  and 
speaking  whimsically,  almost  as  if  he  were 
ashamed,  "you  don't  know  what  a  thrill  it 
gives  me  to  think  I  own  those  elms  down  there." 
He  motioned  with  his  head  toward  the  avenue 
visible  from  where  they  were  sitting. 

"All  right,"  returned  Lucretia  dispassion- 
ately. "I  hope  it '11  last." 

"That  depends  somewhat  on  you,"  said  her 
companion,  meeting  her  eyes. 

"For  the  land's  sake,"  she  remarked,  mysti- 
fied, but  flattered. 

'"You  know  as  well  as  I  do,"  he  went  on, 
"that  any  one  I  could  employ  from  the  city 
to  help  me  here  would  be  strange,  and  ignorant 
of  our  ways."  (Obscure  touch  of  flattery,  but  it 
told.)  "She'd  be  lonely,  too,  and  impossible 
generally." 

"I'm  goin'  home  to-night,"  said  Lucretia 
firmly. 

"Well,  not  till  you've  heard  me  out,  any- 
way, will  you?" 

172 


Elm  Farm 


"No ;  I  can't  leave  Pete  any  longer.  He 's  the 
most  shiftless  lazybones"  —  began  Lucretia 
decidedly. 

"Now,  wait.  I  bought  this  farm  on  an  im- 
pulse that's  been  spurring  me  periodically  for 
a  year.  You  don't  want  to  make  me  feel  I  've 
got  a  white  elephant,  do  you?" 

"It's  none  o'  my  business,"  returned  Lu- 
cretia, leaning  back  in  her  chair  and  sniffing 
hard-heartedly. 

"One  of  my  great  reasons  was  my  little  boy's 
health.  You  see  what  he  looks  like." 

"Kind  o'  faded,  I  must  say,"  agreed  Lu- 
cretia. 

"I  believe  in  a  farm  for  children.  Resorts 
don't  amount  to  much.  I  have  n't  told  my  wife 
anything  about  this  yet.  She  won't  care  for  it 
because  she  is  very  studious  and  public-spirited 
and  the  advantages  of  the  city  appeal  to  her; 
so  I've  got  to  paddle  my  own  canoe.  See? 
Now,  you  were  up  all  last  night  and  so  was  I, 
practically,  making  what  I  believed  would  be  a 
good  working  plan  out  here.  I  did  .n't  know  you 
were  helping  the  Metcalfs;  but  I  had  in  mind 
just  such  a  person  as  you  are,  with  a  husband, 
or  a  relative  who  would  be  the  backbone  of  this 
place." 

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The  Right  Track 


"Pete  has  n't  got  any.  He's  limbered  his  for 
all  time  settin'  on  the  front  seat  o'  that  carriage." 

"Well,  we'll  see,  we'll  see.  You've  enough 
for  both,  and  I  'm  not  giving  you  up,  Lucretia, 
and  looking  around  for  somebody  else  until 
you  finally  turn  me  down." 

James  Barnes  then  unfolded  his  idea  of  a 
salary  for  Lucretia,  which,  after  the  mite  be- 
stowed upon  her  by  the  Metcalfs,  made  her 
look  off  out  the  window  and  meditate  upon 
what  neighbor  might  jump  at  this  opportunity 
if  she  let  it  slip. 

"My  idea  would  be,"  went  on  Mr.  Barnes, 
"to  fix  up  that  barn  chamber  for  Pete,  and 
make  him  a  general  utility  man  —  a  man-of- 
all-work." 

Lucretia's  lips  twitched  again  in  a  smile. 
"He  might  be  the  first — I  don't  know;  but 
as  to  bein'  a  man-of-all-work !  Well,  the  place 
would  n't  suit  him,  Mr.  Barnes.  Could  n't  be 
made  to." 

"Leave  that  to  me.  I 'd  teach  him  to  drive  a 


car—" 


"A  what!"  exclaimed  Lucretia.     "Do  you 
mean  an  au-to-mo-bile  up  to  this  fi^n?" 
"Certainly!    I  think  Pete  would  rather  like 


it.'3 


174 


Elm  Farm 


"Might  be!"  responded  Lucretia,  her  eyes 
still  big  with  the  expansion  of  ideas.  "He  could 
set  and  do  it.  There's  no  tellin'." 

"The  first  thing  I  would  have  you  and  Pete 
do  is  to  clear  out  everything  in  this  house.  Any 
things  you'd  like  for  your  own  cottage,  take 
them.  The  rest,  sell  or  give  away.  Make  a  clean 
sweep.  My  daughter,  Elaine,  will  be  home  in 
a  few  weeks.  I  am  hoping  she  may  take  an  in- 
terest in  fixing  up  the  place;  but  at  any  rate, 
the  first  thing  is  to  get  everything  clean,  and 
mended,  and  use  some  fresh  paint." 

Greater  light  came  into  his  listener's  eyes. 
"Everything  clean  and  mended  and  painted," 
she  said  with  excitement.  Imagine  having 
money  enough  to  speak  with  nonchalance  of 
such  a  transformation ! 

"  I  know  you  can  keep  accounts,  for  the  Met- 
calfs  showed  me  how  you  had  helped  them.  I 
shall  give  you  full  charge.  You  can  perhaps 
rent  your  cottage  to  some  one  who  will  take  good 
care  of  it." 

Lucretia  no  longer  sat  back  in  her  chair.  Her 
eyes  were  absolutely  round.  The  springs  worked 
in  her  throat:  She  foresaw  a  time  of  excitement 
such  as  never  had  been  known  in  Brierly,  —  a 
motor-car  .going  up  and  down  the  elm  avenue; 


The  Right  Track 


money  to  dispense;  herself  in  charge.  What 
would  they  say  at  the  ladies'  sewing  society! 

"It's  a  good  position,  Lucretia,  for  a  woman 
with  faculty,"  said  James  Barnes  at  last. 

"I  accept  it,"  declared  Lucretia  Watt,  her 
thin  cheeks  reddening. 

The  vista  of  power  and  importance  which 
opened  before  her  made  her  reckless.  She  had 
the  sensation  of  burning  all  the  bridges  behind 
her. 


CHAPTER  XII 

SUN  AND   SHADOW 

JAMES  BARNES  had  had  the  training  in  unsel- 
fishness which  comes  to  a  devoted  husband  in 
the  companionship  of  a  delicate  wife.  The  five 
dreary  years  after  her  death  had  been  bravely 
borne;  and  the  joyousness  which  sprang  into  his 
life  at  Mabel  Ford's  acceptance  of  him  was  dy- 
ing hard.  His  chief  comfort  to-day  was  that  no 
one,  not  even  she  herself,  knew  what  she  had 
done  to  him.  His  narrow,  prosaic  social  circle 
looked  on  him  with  admiration  as  the  possessor 
of  a  handsome  young  wife  whose  head  had 
never  been  turned,  but  whose  aspirations  were 
sedate  and  intellectual.  He  received  their  com- 
pliments graciously. 

Never  in  his  long  reflections  upon  their  rela- 
tions did  he  upbraid  her  in  his  own  mind. 

"Poor  child,  she  did  n't  want  to  marry  me," 
was  his  habitual  defense  of  Mabel's  indiffer- 
ence, "and  I  have  given  her  the  opportunities 
that  satisfy  her.  It  is  the  fortune  of  war." 

The  instinct  to  turn  to  his  wife  for  sympathy 
in  his  interests  was  fast  being  inhibited,  but 

177 


The  Right  Track 


little  by  little  the  hurt  was  becoming  less  keen, 
and  the  stately  young  woman  was  being  gradu- 
ally put  further  and  further  out  of  that  ardent 
heart  of  hearts  which  used  to  crave  her. 

There  was  no  direct  railroad  from  Brierly  to 
the  city,  and  while  Junior  slept  with  his  head 
in  Camilla's  lap,  Mr.  Barnes  talked  to  her  of 
his  plans  during  their  tedious  little  trip  home 
from  the  farm. 

There  was  a  boyish  twinkle  in  his  eyes.  He 
felt  as  he  had  often  done  in  school  days,  after 
achieving  a  feat  of  mischievous  daring,  when  it 
was  too  late  to  repent. 

When  finally  their  taxi  drew  up  before  the 
home  steps  the  stars  were  out. 

The  lights  in  the  living-room  were  dim,  so 
the  travelers  ascended  the  stairs  to  Mrs. 
Barnes's  study.  Victor  Ford  was  there  with  his 
sister.  He  had  been  obliged  to  postpone  his 
plan  to  remain  away  from  the  house  because  of 
business  which  had  arisen  regarding  the  sub- 
letting of  the  old  apartment. 

He  rose  as  the  trio  came  in,  and  Mabel 
greeted  them. 

"Home  again,"  she  said,  and  advanced  to 
meet  her  husband,  presenting  her  cheek  for  his 
kiss.  He  touched  her  face  with  his  lips. 

178 

\ 


Sun  and  Shadow 


"We're  very  empty  of  supper  and  very  full 
of  news,"  he  said. 

"News  in  Brierly?"  returned  Mabel.  "Is  n't 
that  rather  a  paradox  ?  Why  did  n't  you  dine 
before  you  left  there?"  Her  brow  wrinkled  and 
her  tone  betrayed  the  annoyance  she  felt  at 
having  to  consider  an  unseasonable  repast. 

"Well,  there  was  a  strike  in  all  the  hotels,  you 
see,"  said  James  Barnes.  "What's  the  matter? 
Servants  all  out?" 

"I  don't  know;  but  probably  Bessie's  in,  en- 
tertaining her  sweetheart  in  the  kitchen." 

"Well,  perhaps  she'll  be  generous  enough  to 
give  us  something.  If  not,  I  suppose  the  ice- 
box is  at  the  old  address." 

Victor  Ford  felt  the  blood  surging  up  into  his 
face  as  it  had  the  habit  of  doing  in  his  sister's 
house. 

"I'll  go  down  and  take  the  message,  shall 
I?"  he  asked. 

"We'll  all  go  in  a  minute,"  returned  Mr. 
Barnes.  "First  we  have  to  tell  our  news. 
Junior,  what  were  you  going  to  tell  Mamabel 
-as  soon  as  we  got  home?" 

Junior,  glassy-eyed  and  dazed  with  sleepiness 
and  holding  mechanically  to  a  large  bunch  of 
dejected  dandelions,  swayed  on  uncertain  legs. 

179 


The  Right  Track 


"  We  Ve  got  a  farm,"  he  announced  stolidly. 

"What  does  he —  James!"  exclaimed  Mrs. 
Barnes  with  sudden  enlightenment.  "You 
don't  mean  to  say  you  Ve  bought  that  farm  at 
the  other  end  of  nowhere?" 

Her  face  flushed  with  vexation,  and  Camilla 
watched  her  in  grave  surprise. 

"What  did  you  do  that  for?"  she  finished. 

"For  myself,"  replied  James  Barnes  dryly. 
He  did  not  know  until  this  moment  that  there 
had  been  a  remnant  of  hope  that  his  wife,  who 
had  often  laughed  at  what  she  termed  his  one 
sentimentality,  might  feel  a  ray  of  gladness  for 
him. 

"I  would  have  bought  it  for  you,"  he  added, 
"if  I  could  have  believed  you  would  like  it." 

"Like  it!"  repeated  Mabel  contemptuously; 
"I  should  think  not.  I  know  well  enough  what 
those  inland  places  are  —  always  hot  and  full 
of  mosquitoes  and  unbearably  dull  and  incon- 
venient." 

James  Barnes's  heart  swelled  and  he  shrank 
as  at  the  belaboring  of  some  dear  one.  His  wife 
suddenly  seemed  a  thousand  miles  away  from 
him. 

Camilla's  heart  ached  for  the  speaker's  blind- 
ness and  the  husband's  smart.  How  different 

1 80 


Sun  and  Shadow 


his  face  now  from  the  gay  one  in  the  train. 
Victor  was  putting  constraint  on  himself. 

"It's  your  husband's  old  home  that  you're 
talking  about,  Mabel,"  he  said. 

"I  know  it.  What's  to  prevent  his  seeing  it 
whenever  he  wants  to?  But  to  buy  it  —  to 
saddle  himself  with  an  outgrown,  countrified 
place  like  that  when  we  might  go  to  Europe 
with  the  money  — " 

"You  may  go  to  Europe,"  said  James  Barnes, 
and  his  wife  had  heard  this  voice  but  once  be- 
fore; but  it  was  suddenly  controlled;  "go  when- 
ever you  wish;  but  probably  you  won't  care  to 
leave  within  the  hour  and  we  should  like  some 
supper.  We  had  a  bite  at  the  farm  before 
starting,  but,  Great  Scott,  it  seems  a  long  time 
ago,  does  n't  it,  Camilla?" 

"I  think  I'll  go  and  put  Junior  to  bed,"  said 
the  latter,  "  and  bring  him  something." 

Suiting  the  action  to  the  word,  Camilla  led 
the  child  down  the  hall  to  the  nursery.  In  spite 
of  his  somnambulistic  condition,  the  little  boy 
had  felt  the  jarring  atmosphere.  "Mamabel's 
mad  and  I  don't  care,"  he  said. 

"Yes,  we  care,"  returned  Camilla.  "She'll 
be  glad  some  day.  She  has  n't  seen  the  farm  yet. 
Wait  till  she  picks  flowers  with  you." 

181 


The  Right  Track 


"I  won't  let  her." 

"Yes,  indeed  you  will;  and  you'll  show  her 
the  brook  and  the  pond  and  all  the  lovely  places. 
It'll  be  fun  to  surprise  her." 

The  consideration  of  himself  as  cicerone  be- 
ing somewhat  pleasing,  Junior  said  no  more  and 
was  soon  tucked  away  to  sleep. 

Victor  Ford's  towering  impatience  with  his 
sister  submerged  his  sense  of  his  own  wrongs. 
The  dignity  and  forbearance  with  which  he  had 
intended  to  treat  his  brother-in-law  in  return 
for  the  other's  vigorous  reproofs  were  forgotten. 
Even  more,  it  was  being  gradually  forced  in 
upon  his  consciousness  that  those  reproofs  had 
been  seasonable.  The  associations  he  had 
formed  during  the  winter  were  not  inclined  to 
let  him  alone,  and  now  he  began  to  look  at 
them  with  more  of  James  Barnes's  steady  vision 
and  to  recognize  them  as  stumbling-blocks  in- 
stead of  stepping-stones.  He  had  a  suspicion,  in 
the  light  of  events,  that  the  warning  had  come 
just  in  time;  and  a  revulsion  of  feeling  toward 
his  brother-in-law  resulted.  He  was  conscious 
of  longing  to  make  up  to  him  in  small  degree 
for  the  disappointments  marriage  had  brought 
him. 

Victor  never  seemed  to  accomplish  anything 
182 


Sun  and  Shadow 


by  talks  to  his  sister.  Her  complacency  was 
impenetrable  and  imperturbable.  She  had  her 
all-important  standards  and  James  Barnes  did 
not  come  up  to  any  of  them.  Her  daily  strength- 
ening habit  of  thought  was  that  by  the  con- 
descension of  being  wife  to  so  unambitious  a 
creature,  she  more  than  repaid  all  he  might  do 
for  her.  Had  his  nature  not  been  fine-grained, 
chivalrous,  and  protective,  she  would  have 
begun  to  see,  ere  the  incident  of  the  farm  pro- 
voked her  to  frank  rudeness,  that  her  influence 
over  him  was  not  what  it  had  been;  but  she  was 
so  fortified  in  her  careless  condescension  to  him 
and  his  friends,  and  her  solid  confidence  in  his 
admiration  and  love  for  herself,  that  she  did  not 
deign  to  notice  symptoms.  Why,  indeed,  should 
he  not  be  happy  in  the  possession  of  a  superior 
being?  She  found  her  own  satisfactions  in  the 
court  of  clubwomen  to  whom  her  deep  purse 
brought  many  an  advantage  and  who  hailed 
with  delight  the  zest  which  she  brought  to  her 
work  in  their  interests. 

James  Barnes  had  snubbed  Mabel's  brother 
when  he  offered  him  sympathy.  This,  too, 
Victor  now  acknowledged  to  be  characteristic; 
and  characteristic  of  James  Barnes  was  begin- 
ning to  mean  heroism  to  his  brother-in-law. 

183 


The  Right  Track 


A  day  or  two  afterward,  therefore,  Victor 
presented  himself  in  the  grain  dealer's  office. 

James  Barnes  had  been  reading  a  letter  and 
looked  up  from  it  with  a  rather  rueful  smile. 

"From  Elaine,"  he  said.  "I  guess  they've 
done  it." 

"D.one  what?"  asked  Victor,  taking  a  seat 
by  the  desk. 

"Finished  her."  He  took  from  the  desk-top 
the  picture  of  the  young  girl  in  the  white 
dress. 

"Queer  feeling,  Ford,  having  the  young  ones 
grow  up,  get  all  their  feathers,  and  before  you 
know  it  be  ready  to  fly  out  of  the  nest." 

Victor  Ford's  mind  worked  swiftly  and  hope- 
fully. It  had  occurred  to  him  once  or  twice 
that  Elaine  would  be  coming  back  and  that  if 
she  and  Mabel  struck  sparks,  new  discomforts 
would  be  added  to  the  Barneses'  household. 
Something  in  the  father's  wording  lighted  a 
hope  in  his  breast. 

"Out  of  the  nest  ? "  he  returned  with  courteous 
interest.  "Do  you  mean  that  Miss  Elaine  has 
already  formed  some  attachment — "  he  paused. 

"Got  a  beau,  do  you  mean?  Oh,  I  believe 
there  is  n't  any  chance  of  that  sort  of  thing  in 
that  place.  Every  girl  there  is  supposed  to  be  a 


Sun  and  Shadow 


selected  gem  and  watched  and  guarded  accord- 
ingly. No,  it's  only  that  this  letter,"  tapping  it 
with  his  fingers,  "  is  so  different  from  the  sort 
my  little  girl  used  to  write  me.  She 's  terribly 
grown  up."  The  father  laughed  with  some 
pride.  "  I  'm  going  on  next  week  to  bring  her 
home." 

Victor's  heart  sank  and  he  cleared  his  throat. 
"I  just  dropped  in,"  he  said,  "to  say  that  if 
you  want  to  send  me  around  on  any  errands 
regarding  the  farm,  I  'm  not  so  busy  as  you  are 
and  I'd  like  to  put  myself  at  your  service." 

James  Barnes  looked  up  surprised.  Then  he 
looked  down  again.  In  the  moment  of  silence  he 
thought  he  understood  that  here  was  the  offer 
of  a  partial  amende  honorable. 

"Thank  you,  Ford.  I  think  I  shall  take  you 
up  once  in  a  while.  I  was  wishing  this  morn- 
ing I  could  be  in  two  places  at  once.  I  have 
two  Brierly  characters  in  charge:  one  Lucretia 
Watt,  and  her  cousin,  Pete  Miller.  I  am  turn- 
ing loose  a  lot  of  painters  and  calciminers  and 
so  on  there."  He  stopped  and  looked  somewhat 
wistfully  at  the  young  lawyer. 

"Why  don't  I  run  out  this  morning  and  take 
a  look  and  bring  back  a  report?" 

"Well,  go  ahead  and  do  it,  Ford,  if  you 
185 


The  Right  Track 


have  n't  anything  driving  you.     I  'd  be  very 
glad  to  have  you." 

"Sure,"  said  Victor  heartily.  "Expect  me 
when  you  see  me;  and  I'll  tell  you  all  I  know." 

"Wait  a  minute,"  and  James  Barnes  took  out 
his  pocketbook. 

"No,  thank  you,"  returned  Victor  hastily. 
"I  want  to  see  the  farm"  ;  and  he  hurried  out, 
closing  the  door  behind  him. 

James  Barnes  replaced  his  pocketbook;  then 
he  read  over  Elaine's  letter;  and  its  formal  and 
dutiful  lines  made  him  smile. 

"Love  to  Mamabel,  and  you,  dear  Daddy," 
was  the  closing. 

"Love  to  Mamabel."  James  Barnes  bit  his 
lips  reflectively.  He  had  long  ago  written  Elaine 
of  the  pretty  name  coined  by  Junior  for  his  step- 
mother, and  when  answering  the  latter's  occa- 
sional notes  to  Elaine,  the  girl  had  adopted  this 
name,  greatly  to  her  father's  relief. 

His  face  settled  into  heavy  lines  as  he  reflected 
now  upon  his  daughter's  home-coming  and  spec- 
ulated upon  the  future.  He  had  married  against 
her  will  and  she  had  been  right.  He  dreaded  the 
breaking-up  of  the  present  neutrality;  the  an- 
tagonism which  was  sure  to  ripen  when  Elaine 
became  conversant  with  matters  at  home. 

1 86 


Sun  and  Shadow 


She  had  never  been  domestic  in  her  tastes. 
Would  she  be  more  so  as  she  matured?  Would 
she  perhaps  take  the  reins  of  the  housekeep- 
ing? He  was  sure  his  wife  would  never  miss 
them.  The  servants  did  now  nearly  all  that 
was  done. 

With  a  heavy  sigh  and  a  quick  movement 
he  replaced  his  child's  letter  in  the  envelope. 

"One  day  at  a  time,"  he  muttered  under  his 
breath. 

"And,  then,  there  is  Camilla."  The  thought 
came  with  reassurance.  There  was  one  spot  in 
his  unhomelike  house  which  was  a  haven,  and 
there  his  little  boy  was  in  a  safe  fold.  There  was 
surpassing  comfort  in  the  fact.  Camilla  had 
thoroughly  approved  his  purchase  of  the  farm 
if  for  nothing,  she  told  him,  but  a  playground 
for  Junior. 

It  was  her  desire  to  take  the  child  out  at  once 
and  keep  him  there;  but  she  did  not  express  this. 
She  wanted  the  initiative  to  come  from  Mrs. 
Barnes.  She  realized  with  painful  clearness  the 
thinness  of  the  ice  on  which  that  lady  was  daily 
treading  so  confidently,  and  saw  that  she  her- 
self must  move  cautiously  not  to  gain  her  ill- 
will. 

The  tete-a-tete  dinners  with  his  wife  had  come 


The  Right  Track 


to  be  a  burden  to  James  Barnes.  He  managed 
to  be  obliged  sometimes  to  dine  at  his  club,  and 
Mabel  always  took  this  announcement  so  cheer- 
fully that  he  made  the  occasions  increasingly 
frequent.  When  her  husband  was  not  coming 
home,  Mrs.  Barnes  need  not  dress  for  dinner 
and  could  take  a  book  to  the  table  and  read 
throughout  the  meal. 

When  he  was  there  she  usually  inquired  about 
his  day  and  he  about  hers;  but  both  had  long 
ceased  to  listen  to  the  brief  sterotyped  answers. 

She  told  him  of  the  servants'  quarrels,  and 
throughout  the  winter  there  had  generally  been 
some  enormity  of  Junior's  to  divulge;  but  of 
late  the  child  had  not  figured  much  in  the  con- 
versation. 

One  day,  shortly  after  the  unwelcome  news 
of  the  farm  had  been  brought  to  her,  Mr.  Barnes 
called  Mabel  on  the  telephone.  She  listened 
intently  for  the  customary  announcement  of  a 
business  dinner  at  the  club. 

"What  do  you  say  to  dining  at  Florio's  to- 
night?" he  asked. 

"Why  — "  she  hesitated,  —  "if  it  would  be 
a  pleasure  to  you." 

"I  think  you  would  enjoy  it,"  he  replied. 
"Does  n't  it  do  a  bookworm  good  sometimes  to 

188 


Sun  and  Shadow 


crawl  up  among  the  bright  lights  and  the 
music?" 

"Perhaps,"  she  answered  coolly.  "You  know 
I  have  n't  much  taste  for  those  things." 

"All  right.  Then  I'll  be  home  in  time  to 
dress." 

He  hung  up  without  giving  her  a  chance  to 
speak  further,  and  she  replaced  the  receiver  with 
a  sigh  and  spoke  through  a  tube  to  the  cook, 
telling  her  that  they  were  going  to  dine  out. 

At  any  rate,  it  was  better  than  going  to  one 
of  those  awful  dinners  with  James's  friends, 
where  the  talk  was  all  domestic  stupidity  and 
she  was  obliged  to  smile  above  her  desperate 
boredom  while  the  interminable  minutes  dragged 
by.  Florio's  was  the  most  expensive  and  fash- 
ionable restaurant  in  town.  She  sighed  again. 
She  must  decide  upon  a  gown  to  wear. 

The  drapery  of  her  blue  velvet  had  pulled 
down.  It  would  have  to  be  rearranged.  Dull 
but  undeniable  fact.  It  was  the  most  practicable 
gown  for  the  purpose;  so  she  threw  it  over  her 
arm  and  proceeded  to  the  nursery. 

She  had  always  found  Camilla  ready  and  will- 
ing to  help  her.  To  be  sure,  the  little  woman 
never  said  discriminatingly  pretty  things  as 
Mademoiselle  had  done;  she  was  probably  too 

189 


The  Right  Track 


modest  as  well  as  too  stupid  for  that,  but  she 
had  a  practical  turn  which  had  already  made 
itself  felt  for  good  in  the  house,  and  Mabel  was 
quite  certain  that  Bessie,  who  used  to  look  after 
the  linen  when  it  returned  from  the  laundry, 
never  now  took  any  care  of  it. 

When  she  entered  the  nursery  she  found 
Camilla  sitting  by  a  window,  through  which 
streamed  the  last  half-hour  of  sunlight  for  that 
day.  In  front  of  her  was  a  large  workbasket  full 
of  stockings  which  she  was  darning. 

As  his  stepmother  entered,  Junior,  who  was 
standing  in  the  middle  of  the  room  gazing  around 
the  walls,  cried  out :  - 

"Don't  scare  her!   Don't  scare  her!" 

"Don't  scare  who?"  inquired  Mrs.  Barnes, 
looking  about. 

"The  fairy  Popinjay.  See  her?  See  her?" 
The  child  pointed  to  a  round,  quivering  sun- 
beam on  the  wall,  which  even  as  he  spoke 
dashed  up  to  the  ceiling,  as  Camilla  smiled  and 
laid  her  scissors  on  the  window  sill.  "She  lives 
in  the  sun,"  explained  Junior;  "but  she  likes 
to  come  down  here  and  play  with  me;  and  some- 
times I  make  a  block  house  for  her." 

"How  nice,"  said  Mabel  absently.  "  Camilla, 
will  you  hook  this  gown  on  me  and  see  if  you 

190 


Sun  and  Shadow 


can  tack  up  the  drapery?  I  have  to  go  out  to 
dinner  with  Mr.  Barnes." 

Camilla  rose  at  once  and  her  visitor  slipped 
off  her  kimono  and  put  on  the  festal  gown. 

"Perhaps  you  did  n't  know  I  was  a  dress- 
maker," said  Camilla  as  she  fastened  the  hooks. 

"Well,  that's  lucky,  for  I'm  so  dull  about  all 
that  sort  of  thing." 

The  speaker's  mind  reverted  to  the  days  when 
she  had  groaned  in  the  throes  of  "making 


over." 


"Only  a  village  dressmaker,"  said  Camilla; 
"but  I  think  I  can  see  where  the  tacking  was 
and  fix  it  up  all  right  again." 

"Come  down,  Popinjay!  Come  down," 
Junior  was  meanwhile  apostrophizing  the 
bright  beam  that  had  flown  to  the  ceiling. 

"Let  her  stay  up  there  while  there's  com- 
pany," said  Camilla,  while  Mrs.  Barnes  talked 
on,  giving  directions  and  unheeding  anything 
but  her  own  reflection  in  the  mirror. 

"There's  one  place  there  you  must  rip,"  she 
said.  "I  sewed  it  myself  in  desperation  the  last 
time  I  wore  the  gown,  and  did  it  wrong." 

Camilla  went  to  the  window  and  taking  up 
her  scissors  returned  to  the  dresser. 

"There!"  exclaimed  Junior.  "Popinjay  's 
191 


The  Right  Track 


gone !  I  knew  she  would.  She 's  afraid  of  Mama- 
bel." 

As  no  one  replied  to  him,  he  began  stamping 
up  and  down  the  room. 

"Oh,  Junior,  do  keep  still  for  a  minute,"  ex- 
claimed Mrs.  Barnes.  "Right  on  that  seam, 
Camilla.  Oh,  what  a  nuisance  clothes  are. 
Junior,  stop  that  roaring  at  once";  for  the  boy 
was  cheering  his  boredom  by  guttural  howls. 

Camilla  looked  over  her  shoulder  at  her 
charge.  "Hush,  Junior.  Listen.  Popinjay  is  n't 
afraid  of  anything;  you  know  that;  but  she  only 
comes  where  Love  is.  Sing  to  her  and  see  if  she 
won't  come  back." 

To  Mrs.  Barnes's  surprise  the  child  at  once 
sat  down  on  the  floor  with  his  back  to  them  and, 
regarding  the  wall,  began  Camilla's  song:  — 

"An  angel  flew  downward  from  heaven's  gate 
And  came  to  the  earth  below." 

His  stepmother  looked  over  her  shoulder  at  him 
while  Camilla  deftly  caught  up  the  velvet  in  the 
right  spot,  and  when  she  had  fastened  it  with 
a  pin,  preparatory  to  the  sewing,  she  took  the 
scissors  back  and  laid  them  on  the  workbasket. 

Instantly  the  sunbeam  sprang  to  the  wall  and 
quivered  before  Junior's  pleased  eyes. 

"There  she  is,  there  she  is!"  he  cried. 
192 


Sun  and  Shadow 


"  Sing  to  her  a  little  more.  See  how  she  likes 
it,"  said  Camilla,  taking  her  needle  and  silk; 
and  the  child  remained  sitting,  and  singing  in 
his  high,  breathy  little  voice.  Mabel  listened, 
somewhat  amused,  but  making  the  most  of  the 
time  of  peace  in  which  to  make  certain  that  the 
job  in  hand  was  properly  performed. 

"Thank  you,  Camilla;  you're  quite  skillful," 
she  said  at  last.  "  I  '11  run  away  and  leave  Pop- 
injay —  both  popinjays  —  in  possession." 

She  laughed  and  caught  up  her  kimono,  and 
Junior's  voice  died  away  as  he  looked  at  her 
over  his  shoulder. 

"See  you  in  the  morning,"  she  said,  blowing 
him  a  kiss ;  but  he  looked  back  at  the  wall,  well 
satisfied.  This  room  contained  his  world. 

"Couldn't  you  throw  Mamabel  a  kiss?" 
asked  Camilla,  going  back  to  her  stocking- 
basket  and  taking  up  the  scissors. 

"Why?"  asked  Junior,  gazing  delightedly 
at  the  gyrations  of  Popinjay,  as  she  leaped  from 
flower  to  bird  on  the  wall  paper. 

"Because  we  want  to  express  love  to  every- 
body." 

Junior  laughed.  The  sunbeam  fairy  had 
taught  him  how.  "Popinjay  is  n't  polite  to  be 
so  glad  Mamabel 's  gone,  is  she?"  he  asked. 

193 


The  Right  Track 


"No,  indeed.  Now  sit  still,  Popinjay,  and 
Junior  will  tell  you  how  Love  and  nothing  else 
brings  happiness;  and  Love  is  politeness  and 
kindness  and  — " 

"Yes,"  said  Junior,  interrupting  the  dis- 
course to  which  the  sunbeam  was  paying  im- 
movable attention,  "  but  —  but,  you  see,  Ma- 
mabel  does  n't  care." 

Camilla  sighed  silently,  and  as  she  snipped 
off  the  darning-cotton,  Popinjay  danced  with 
abandon. 


CHAPTER  (XIII 

IN  THE   RESTAURANT 

WHEN  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Barnes  entered  the 
fashionable  restaurant,  Mabel  felt  some  sur- 
prise at  the  number  of  persons  who  greeted  her 
husband  as  they  passed  among  the  tables,  and 
he  was  conscious  of  the  attention  attracted  by 
his  young  wife. 

The  head  waiter  addressed  him  respectfully 
by  name  and  indicated  a  table  reserved  in  a  de- 
sirable location. 

Mabel  glanced  at  her  husband  as  they  took 
their  seats,  with  some  personal  approval.  She 
was  not  sure  that  he  did  not  look  rather  dis- 
tinguished in  his  evening  clothes.  For  the 
second  time  in  their  acquaintance  she  felt  some 
elation  that  she  had  not  married  a  cipher;  and 
what  mattered  it  to  her  that  his  friends  were  old 
fogies  ?  She  had  no  social  ambitions  and  would 
have  been  far  more  impatient  with  a  necessity 
to  live  up  or  down  to  the  standards  of  most 
of  the  women  she  saw  at  the  tables  about 
her. 

I9S 


The  Right  Track 


A  handsome  woman,  showily  gowned,  now 
recognized  her  husband  with  much  empress e- 
ment. 

"Who's  that?"  asked  Mabel  surprised. 

"An  actress  I  used  to  know.  She  left  the 
stage  to  marry  a  New  York  man." 

The  lady  was  continuing  to  smile  in  inviting 
fashion  and  Mr.  Barnes,  excusing  himself,  went 
across  and  shook  hands  with  her  and  was  pre- 
sented to  her  companion.  As  Mabel  watched 
this  man  rise,  and  saw  the  two  shake  hands,  there 
occurred  to  her  the  first  speculation  that 
had  ever  entered  her  mind  concerning  James 
Barnes's  five  years  of  widowerhood.  She  had 
never  had  sufficient  interest  to  ask  him  a  ques- 
tion and  he  had  volunteered  nothing.  He  had 
been  less  than  forty-five  when  his  wife  died, 
and  he  looked  now  as  young  as  the  husband 
of  the  actress.  Mabel  considered  these  things 
listlessly;  but  later  when  the  waiter  came  to 
remove  the  second  course  of  their  dinner,  some- 
thing occurred  which  banished  all  listlessness. 
A  couple  passed  their  table  searching  for  their 
own,  and  the  lady,  seeing  Mr.  Barnes,  stopped 
short  and  held  out  her  hand  with  great  cordial- 
ity. He  rose  and  grasped  it  while  Mabel's  face 
flushed  with  pleasure. 

196 


In  the  Restaurant 


"Mrs.  Walmsley!"  she  exclaimed. 

"You'll  think  me  the  dullest  woman  in  the 
world,  Mr.  Barnes,"  said  the  newcomer,  looking 
up  into  his  face  with  charming  grace  of  man- 
ner, "but  never  did  I  connect  Mrs.  James 
Barnes,  the  clever  baby  member  of  our  club, 
with  you.  I  Ve  been  back  such  a  short  time  and 
no  one  happened  to  tell  me.  I  was  just  about 
to  send  you  my  card  and  see  if  we  could  n't 
begin  where  we  left  off,  but  — "  she  laughed  and 
took  Mabel's  hand  —  "but  I  see  while  the  cat 
was  away,  you  Ve  been  playing.  You  remember 
my  Ben,  don't  you  ? "  A  tall,  good-looking  youth 
of  twenty-five  stepped  forward  and  greeted  his 
mother's  friends.  He  had  kept  admiring  eyes 
fixed  on  Mabel.  "I  saw  your  daughter  last 
week,  Mr.  Barnes,"  he  said;  and  nodding  pleas- 
antly the  two  passed  on. 

"Why  did  n't  you  tell  me  you  knew  Mrs. 
Walmsley?"  asked  Mabel. 

"I  suppose  for  the  same  reason  that  you 
did  n't  tell  me  you  knew  her,"  returned  James 
Barnes. 

"  She 's  such  a  clever  woman,"  went  on  Mabel, 
regarding  her  husband  with  new  interest  and 
curiosity,  seeing  that  the  clever  widow,  an  ex- 
president  of  her  club,  had  remembered  him  after 

197 


The  Right  Track 


her  year  of  study  abroad  with  sufficient  interest 
to  desire  to  renew  the  friendship. 

"Neither  of  us  thought  the  fact  would  in- 
terest the  other,  I  suppose,"  continued  James 
Barnes. 

As  Mabel  resumed  her  dinner,  the  simile 
Mrs.  Walmsley  had  used  of  the  cat  and  the  mice 
dwelt  in  her  mind. 

"Just  to  think  of  it,"  she  said  to  herself. 
"Just  to  think  of  it.  I  wonder  what  she  used 
to  talk  about  with  him."  She  looked  up  con- 
sideringly at  her  husband  as  if  seeing  a  new 
nimbus  about  his  scrupulously  brushed  hair. 

"I  came  away  in  such  a  hurry,"  said  Mr. 
Barnes,  "that  I  did  n't  take  time  to  look  in  on 
Junior.  I  suppose  he's  all  right." 

"Oh,  yes;  I  was  in  the  nursery  a  while  this 
afternoon.  Camilla's  a  good  little  thing,  but 
she'll  make  a  perfect  molly-coddle  of  the  boy 
before  it's  time  for  him  to  go  to  school.  I  must 
be  looking  about  for  some  one  more  advan- 
tageous, and  not  waste  too  much  of  his 
time." 

"It  has  never  seemed  to  occur  to  you,  Mabel," 
said  James  Barnes  pleasantly,  "that  there  are 
other  considerations  in  the  world  beside  book 
learning." 


In  the  Restaurant 


"None  that  make  such  returns,  however," 
was  the  quick  response. 

Her  husband  laughed  a  little.  "You're  just 
sporting  in  Elysian  fields,  aren't  you?"  he 
said,  and  young  men  at  a  neighboring  table, 
watching  Mabel  and  seeing  his  expression  of 
entertainment,  grumbled  that  it  was  these  mid- 
dle-aged duffers  that  always  had  all  the  luck. 

"I'm  certainly  making  up  for  lost  time," 
returned  his  wife.    "As  Junior  grows  and  de- 
velops I  can  be  of  some  help  to  him." 

"But  if  he  should  fail  to  grow  up  for  lack 
of  help  now,  your  good  intentions  toward  him 
might  come  to  nothing,  and  what  a  pity  that 
would  be!" 

Mabel  shrugged  her  shoulders.  "Oh,  I  under- 
stand those  absurd  worries  of  yours,  and  I  think 
Camilla  is  very  good  for  the  child's  body.  She 
seems  to  understand  warding  off  those  agoniz- 
ing tantrums;  but  it's  his  mind  I'm  thinking 
about." 

"Flowers  need  the  sunshine,"  remarked  her 
husband,  his  eyes  on  his  plate,  "and  children 
are  n't  very  different." 

"She's  teaching  him  to  sing,"  said  Mabel. 
"It's  too  comical  to  hear  him;  but  the  exercise 
is  good  for  his  lungs." 

199 


The  Right  Track 


James  Barnes  laughed  again,  and  again  the 
young  fellows  at  the  next  table  envied  him  his 
dark-browed  charmer. 

"Yes,  I  believe  it  is  said  to  be,"  he  answered. 
"As  soon  as  I  make  things  habitable  at  the  farm 
I  mean  to  have  them  go  out  there  and  stay." 

"  I  don't  know.  Camilla's  quite  useful  to  me, 
right  at  home,"  remarked  Mabel  doubtfully. 

"I  suspect  it's  a  trick  of  hers,"  returned  her 
husband,  "but  you'll  have  to  get  more  out  of 
Bessie.  Elaine  will  be  home  soon,  too.  I  was 
going  to  ask  you  if  you'd  like  to  go  to  New 
York  with  me  next  week  and  bring  her  home." 

Mabel  looked  up  with  the  slight  frown  of 
apprehension  which  always  showed  in  her 
smooth  forehead  at  the  first  symptom  of  a 
request  from  her  husband. 

"Oh,  that's  hardly  worth  while,  is  it,  James? 
You'll  not  stay  long." 

"No,"  he  returned;  "but  women,  I  notice, 
usually  like  to  see  New  York  once  a  year." 

"Yes,  I  know  they  do;  but  it  would  be  only 
to  go  and  turn  right  round  and  come  back  again 
and  I  'm  so  interested  in  some  research  work  I  'm 
doing  at  the  public  library.  You  must  give  me 
credit,  James,"  Mabel  added,  as  her  husband 
kept  silence,  "for  some  good  points.  I  care  so 

200 


In  the  Restaurant 


little  for  clothes  and  jewels  and  entertaining 
and  all  the  things  which  most  women  married 
to  a  man  of  your  means  would  spend  money  for. 
You  have  n't  an  extravagant  wife." 

She  made  the  statement  with  an  arch  nod, 
smiling  at  her  husband  in  self-complacence  with 
so  much  effect  that  the  masculine  admirers  at 
the  next  table  trod  on  each  other's  feet. 

"No,"  agreed  James  Barnes,  eating  busily. 
"Your  extravagance  lies  not  in  expenditure, 
but  in  wastefulness." 

"What!"  exclaimed  his  wife  in  surprise. 
"You  mean  because  I'm  not  a  thrifty  house- 
keeper? We  might  save  a  few  hundreds,  of 
course,  if  I  kept  my  attention  more  on  domestic 
matters ;  and,  of  course,  if  you  were  a  poor  man, 
it  would  be  my  duty."  Mabel  spoke  defensively. 
"As  it  is,  from  my  standpoint  the  wastefulness 
would  be  in  spending  time  in  that  direction." 

James  Barnes  nodded.  "  I  did  n't  refer  to 
bread  and  meat,"  he  said  quietly. 

"  Then  what  did  you  mean?"  Mabel  asked 
it  imperiously. 

"  It  would  be  of  no  use  to  try  to  tell  you.  You 
have  n't  studied  the  language." 

The  wife  stared  at  her  husband  for  a  moment 
of  silence. 

2OI 


The  Right  Track 


'  Tell  me  what  you  mean,  at  once.  What 
have  I  done?" 

"Nothing."  James  Barnes  smiled  at  the  com- 
prehensiveness of  the  word. 

"I  insist,  James,"  said  Mabel,  ceasing  to  eat. 
"I'm  quick  at  languages,  I  think.  I  believe  I 
can  understand  you  if  you'll  tell  me  what's 
on  your  mind." 

He  looked  up  at  her,  still  smiling,  and  the  re- 
mote look  in  the  eyes  which  used  to  question 
her  favor  so  eagerly  filled  her  with  the  discom- 
fort of  the  consciously  admirable  when  admira- 
tion is  not  forthcoming. 

''  There,  there,  my  dear,"  he  said  soothingly. 
"I  made  a  slip  of  the  tongue.  Let  it  go  at 
that." 

"I  shall  not  let  it  go.  I  have  a  right  to  know 
what  you  mean.  You  said  I  was  wasteful." 

"Yes;  but  I  retract,  from  your  standpoint. 
What  is  waste  to  one  person  may  be  only 
the  elimination  of  superfluity  to  another.  It's 
merely  a  question  of  values." 

Mrs.  Barnes  kept  silence  and  her  thoughts 
moved  quickly,  searching  here  and  there.  Look- 
ing at  her  husband,  scales  seemed  to  fall  from 
her  eyes.  A  warm  flush  of  discomfort,  almost  of 
alarm,  stole  over  her,  for  the  look  in  his  eyes  as 

202 


In  the  Restaurant 


she  met  them  now  was  the  regard  which  might 
have  fallen  on  his  office  boy.  How  long  had  the 
change  existed? 

"Why  did  you  bring  me  here  to-night?"  she 
asked  at  last. 

"Why,  I  was  rather  tired  of  our  dining- 
room." 

"You've  not  been  in  it  nearly  as  much  as  I 
have,"  she  returned  quickly. 

"True.  I  should  think  you  might  be  tired 
of  it,  too." 

His  tone  was  courteous.  The  politeness  of  it 
stung  her.  Resentment  was  melting  in  mortifi- 
cation. She  had  no  wish  to  lose  ground  with 
her  husband.  Very  well,  she  must  regain  it.  She 
began  again  to  eat. 

"What  day  are  you  going  to  get  Elaine? "  she 
asked. 

"Next  Wednesday." 

"Why,  I  would  n't  mind  going  if  it  would  be 
the  least  pleasure  to  you." 

"No,  I  really  don't  care  anything  about  it. 
As  you  say,  it  would  be  a  very  short,  unsatis- 
factory trip." 

The  sincerity  of  the  careless  reply  hurt  in 
Mabel's  new  sensitiveness. 

"  I  wonder  if  we  shall  see  a  change  in  her,"  she 
203 


The  Right  Track 


remarked,  her  heart  moving  a  little  faster  as  she 
endeavored  to  speak  easily. 

"Oh,  I  'm  certain  of  it,"  replied  James  Barnes. 
"Her  letters  show  that.  I  only  hope  her  humble 
father  will  not  be  too  much  awed  in  her  soci- 
ety." 

Mabel  smiled  obligingly,  but  with  effort. 
"Have  you  told  her  about  the  farm  yet?"  she 
asked. 

In  her  hasty,  vigorous  mental  search  for 
causes,  she  had  decided  that  in  her  strictures  on 
her  husband's  purchase  she  had  made  a  deep 
wound. 

"No,  I  'm  going  to  break  that  to  her  gently," 
he  replied.  "I'm  hoping  she'll  take  kindly  to 
the  idea,  for  I  can  use  a  woman's  taste  in  my 
changes  out  there." 

"Why  — "  began  Mabel,  looking  up  quickly; 
but  she  met  his  eyes  and  paused.  That  blankly 
polite  gaze  was  horrible;  and  how  could  she 
finish  such  a  banal  question? 

"I  want  to  see  the  farm,  James,"  she  said. 
Suddenly  no  amends  seemed  too  much. 

"Nothing  more  easy,"  he  replied  carelessly. 
"There's  the  motor  or  the  railroad,  either." 

"When  will  you  take  me?" 

Her  husband  shook  his  head.  "Don't  rely 
204 


In  the  Restaurant 


on  me.  I  'm  running  the  farm  at  arm's  length. 
I  'm  pretty  busy  these  days." 

The  apprehensive  flush  that  again  ran  over 
his  companion  made  her  hand  tremble.  There 
was  something  else  that  he  was  holding  at  arm's 
length. 

"  But  I  'd  much  rather  go  with  you,"  she  said, 
strangely  frightened. 

"Oh,  no,  you  would  n't,"  he  returned  lightly. 
"You'll  be  freer  to  think  and  say  what  you 
please  alone  or  with  Victor.  Victor  is  out  there 
a  good  deal.  You  might  go  with  him  if  you 
really  find  you  have  time." 

The  barrier  which  the  pleasant  words  revealed 
became  more  visible.  To  get  behind  it  seemed 
at  this  moment  the  most  important  thing  on 
earth  to  Mabel. 

"  I  don't  care  anything  about  going  without 
you,  James,"  she  said. 

He  saw  the  appeal  and  incredulity  in  her  eyes, 
but  they  did  not  affect  him.  He  had  learned  too 
well  what  were  her  genuine  interests. 

"Suit  yourself,"  he  returned.  His  pleasant, 
indifferent  voice  struck  on  her  ears  like  a  knell. 
Her  charm  for  him  was  gone!  It  was  incredi- 
ble. 

"I  should  think,"  she  said  with  desperate 
205 


The  Right  Track 


frankness,  "that  if  I  ask  you  to  take  me  you 
would." 

He  shook  his  head  slightly  and  smiled. 
"That  is  one  of  many  things  you  think  which 
are  mistakes." 

Her  eyes  filled  with  tears.  What  were  her 
clubs  to  her  at  the  present  moment!  She 
glanced  over  at  the  table  where  Mrs.  Walmsley 
was  laughing  with  her  boy.  She  had  a  wild  im- 
pulse to  run  over  to  her  and  beg  her  to  make 
peace  between  her  husband  and  herself!  to 
teach  her  how  to  break  down  that  adamantine 
barrier. 

"Common  courtesy,  James" — she  began 
nervously. 

Still  he  smiled  at  her  coolly.  "That's  one  of 
the  things  we've  wasted,"  he  returned. 

She  had!  She  admitted  it  with  a  beating 
heart.  Had  she  not  ridden  rough-shod  over  his 
opinions  and  feelings  ?  Well,  supposing  she  had ! 
What  did  she  want  of  him  ?  What  had  she  ever 
wanted  of  him  ?  She  could  n't  turn  into  some 
one  else  to  please  him.  Perhaps  she  had  been 
thoughtless,  discourteous,  but  honest,  always 
honest.  He  was  leaning  back  in  his  chair  now, 
and  looking  about  the  room  while  the  waiter 
brought  the  finger  bowls. 

206 


In  the  Restaurant 


Catching  Mrs.  Walmsley's  eye  he  nodded  and 
smiled  in  response  to  her  friendly  gesture. 
Mabel  envied  her  with  sudden  passion  because 
James  Barnes  had  nothing  against  her. 

Her  wastefulness.  Her  ignorance  of  the 
language  in  which  her  husband  would  have  to 
explain.  She  looked  back  in  amazement  at  the 
complacency  with  which  she  had  entered  this 
room;  for  reason  as  her  pride  might,  she  knew  at 
this  moment  that  her  husband's  kindness,  poise, 
and  strength  had  won  her  through  all  those 
months  when  she  had  used  him  as  a  means  to 
an  end  in  which  he  had  no  share.  Was  it  too 
late?  Was  there  really  nothing  left  but  ashes? 
This  she  asked  herself  as  she  dipped  her  fingers 
in  the  crystal  bowl,  and  color  glowed  in  her 
cheek. 

As  her  husband  regarded  her  he  thought  ke 
had  never  seen  her  so  handsome. 

"And  what  now?"  he  asked.  "Shall  we  go 
to  the  theater  ?  I  suppose  you  Ve  seen '  Ghosts.' ' 

"Yes,"  returned  Mabel.  "  I  Ve  seen '  Ghosts.' 
If  you  don't  mind,  James,  I  'd  like  to  go  home." 

He  saw  her  agitation  and  suspected  that  she 
was  undergoing  some  awakening.  He  had  no 
wish  that  she  should  suffer  even  that  superficial 
discomfort  to  her  pride  which  was  evident. 

207 


The  Right  Track 


"Let  me  tell  you  something,  Mabel,"  he 
said,  leaning  across  the  table  and  speaking  im- 
pressively, while  the  orchestra  began  the  strains 
of  "Madam  Butterfly."  " I  was  brought  up  to 
think  it  a  poor  plan  to  wear  mourning.  I  was 
very  grateful  to  you  for  lightening  your  black 
as  soon  as  you  did  for  my  sake.  Now,  let's 
make  a  compact  that  in  the  ups  and  downs  of 
our  life  we  won't  wear  mourning.  Things  that 
we  care  for  die  and  are  buried — "  She  lifted 
her  eyes  to  him  piteously,  and  he  gave  her 
an  encouraging  nod-  "Let's  plant  flowers 
over  them  and  see  nothing  but  the  flowers. 
Agreed?" 

She  bit  her  lip.    "Let's  go  home,"  she  said. 

"  I  '11  let  Dick  take  you,  then,  since  you  don't 
care  to  go  anywhere.  I  '11  go  back  to  the  office 
and  finish  up  a  little  matter  that  will  make 
things  easier  to-morrow." 

"Will  things  be  easier  to-morrow?"  asked 
Mabel,  scarcely  conscious  of  what  she  was 
saying. 

He  smiled  at  her  with  good  cheer.  "They 
don't  need  to  be  any  easier  for  me,"  he  remarked. 
"'I'm  just  as  happy  as  a  big  sunflower,'  to 
quote  the  poets." 

They  rose  from  the  table  and  in  a  sort  of 
208 


In  the  Restaurant 


daze  Mabel  followed  him  among  the  tables  and 
out  of  the  room,  the  strenuous  strains  of  "Ma- 
dam Butterfly"  sounding  in  her  ears. 

He  put  her  into  the  motor  and  said  good-night. 

"Of  course,  you're  going  to  drive  to  the 
office?"  she  protested. 

"Did  you  observe  the  dinner  I  ate,  my  dear? " 
he  returned.  "I  need  to  walk."  Laughingly  he 
closed  the  door  and  his  wife  sank  back  among 
the  cushions  which  nine  months  ago  had  been 
presented  to  a  poor  girl,  tired  of  poverty. 

She  stared  straight  before  her.  What  had 
happened?  Nothing  to  deprive  James  of  his 
appetite.  He  had,  indeed,  eaten  a  hearty  dinner 
and  enjoyed  it.  He  was  "just  as  happy  as  a  big 
sunflower."  Then  why  should  n't  she  be?  She 
knew  that  any  other  evening  since  their  mar- 
riage had  they  dined  out  and  her  husband  closed 
the  door  of  the  motor  and  sent  her  home  alone, 
she  would  have  welcomed  the  situation  with 
relief  as  giving  her  so  much  more  free  time  to 
pursue  her  own  interests. 

What  was  the  matter?  Did  she  grudge  him 
his  contentment  since  he  had  not  robbed  her 
of  her  own? 

But  he  had  robbed  her,  her  heart  cried  out  in 
sharp  pain.  He  had  called  her  wasteful,  igno- 

209 


The  Right  Track 


rant.  He  had  let  her  see  that  he  admired  her  no 
more  than  she  admired  him.  It  was  a  bolt  from 
the  blue,  shriveling  her  careless  self-esteem. 
She  remembered  Victor's  exasperated  comments, 
and  recalled  vividly  something  he  said  to  her 
as  he  was  leaving  on  the  night  that  James 
Barnes  told  them  of  the  purchase  of  the  farm. 

"Look  out,  Mabel,"  Victor  had  said,  "you're 
overdoing  it.  Your  husband  won't  hear  a  word 
of  criticism  of  you.  I  know,  for  I've  tried  my 
best  and  been  soundly  snubbed  for  my  pains. 
You  happen  to  have  married  the  biggest  man 
I  ever  knew." 

She  had  smiled  at  him  patronizingly,  well 
pleased  to  hear  that  his  impertinence  had  been 
properly  dealt  with.  Now  she  shrank  into  the 
corner  of  the  limousine,  her  eyes  staring  before 
her.  She  had  overdone  it,  whatever  " it"  might 
be,  but  why  be  so  miserable  ?  Why  feel  that  any- 
thing irrevocable  had  occurred  ?  And  if  it  had, 
what  then?  It  was  only  James  Barnes,  the 
grain  dealer,  who  was  concerned.  A  man  twenty 
years  her  senior  and  father  of  two  most  un- 
pleasant children;  a  self-made  man  who  had 
never  had  advantages.  What  was  this  strange 
yearning  of  the  heart  for  a  man  to  whom  her 
brain  condescended  ?  Could  it  be  possible  that 

210 


In  the  Restaurant 


she  was  so  puerile  as  to  be  affected  by  his  pre- 
sentableness  in  his  evening  clothes,  by  the  def- 
erence with  which  he  had  been  addressed  in  the 
restaurant,  even  by  such  a  considerable  honor 
as  intimacy  with  Mrs.  Walmsley  ? 

No,  she  knew  it  was  not  that;  and  as  she  re- 
viewed with  new  eyes  the  cold  comfort  of  her 
husband's  home  and  the  part  she  had  played  in 
it,  she  knew  that  the  revelation  of  his  disap- 
pointments and  the  manner  in  which  he  had 
borne  them  had  suddenly  reversed  their  posi- 
tions. She  had  been  on  a  pedestal,  and  while  he 
knelt  at  her  feet  she  had  carelessly  thrown  him 
crumbs. 

Now  he  was  on  a  pedestal.  With  a  rising  in 
her  throat  and  tears  in  her  eyes,  she  felt  her- 
self at  his  feet.  Would  he  throw  her  crumbs  ? 
She  feared  he  had  none  to  throw.  With  him 
it  would  be  giving  all;  and  when  repulsed  suf- 
ficiently often,  there  would  be  nothing  left  to 
give. 

Her  eyes  were  blinded  when  she  left  the  motor. 

"Are  you  going  back  for  Mr.  Barnes?"  she 
asked  the  chauffeur,  and  even  he  noticed  the 
strangeness  of  her  tone. 

"No.  Mr.  Barnes  said  he  would  n't  want  the 
car  again." 

211 


The  Right  Track 


"Good-night,  Dick,"  returned  the  lady,  and 
went  up  the  steps. 

The  chauffeur  glanced  after  her,  suspecting 
tears.  "Queer.  They  did  n't  seem  to  be  scrap- 
ping," he  reflected  curiously. 


CHAPTER  XIV 

AS   OTHERS    SEE   US 

MABEL  entered  the  house  with  her  latchkey. 
Some  impulse  made  her  pass  through  the  dim 
hall  to  her  husband's  den.  It  was  a  room  she 
seldom  entered  and  she  turned  on  the  light  and 
looked  about  her.  It  was  orderly.  She  remem- 
bered that  he  liked  order.  The  ashes  on  the 
hearth  were  swept  carefully  together;  but  there 
was  no  fire  laid.  When  she  was  first  married, 
this  room  had  worn  an  atmosphere  of  liveable- 
ness.  Now,  with  its  neatly  folded  papers  on  the 
desk  and  the  leather  armchairs  and  divan  all 
set  back  near  the  wall,  it  had  a  deserted  aspect. 
The  wife  wondered  when  last  James  Barnes  had 
spent  an  evening  here.  She  glanced  at  the  bound 
volumes  of  magazines,  and  books  on  farming. 
Impulsively  she  pulled  two  of  the  chairs  toward 
the  fireplace,  and  sitting  down  in  one  of  them, 
looked  at  the  other.  Its  arms  were  rubbed  where 
his  hands  had  rested.  She  looked  at  the  cold 
fireplace,  and  the  heap  of  ashes. 

The  wood  basket  was  full,  and  kindling  stood 
near.  She  pulled  off  her  gloves,  and,  kneeling 

213 


The  Right  Track 


down  in  her  blue  velvet  gown,  she  laid  a  gener- 
ous fire,  and  finding  matches  on  the  mantel- 
piece, set  light  to  it. 

"  If  he  is  n't  very  late  it  will  still  be  alive  when 
he  comes  in,"  she  thought,  and  she  left  the  chair 
standing  before  it. 

Then  she  went  upstairs,  her  thoughts  still 
seething. 

She  entered  her  own  well-lighted  study  and 
regarded  the  long  full  shelves  with  alien  eyes. 
The  table  was  piled  with  tossed  magazines  and 
books,  some  left  open  on  their  faces.  Ashes 
again  in  the  fireplace;  but  ashes  strewn;  and 
flecks  and  rills  of  ashes  on  the  rug.  The  open 
desk  revealed  a  seeming  chaos ;  but  chaos  that 
she  had  loved  and  understood.  Bessie's  brush 
and  duster  were  forbidden  in  this  sanctum  save 
for  periodical  cleanings  which  its  mistress  liter- 
ally suffered. 

She  strode  to  the  desk  and  quickly  pulled 
down  the  lid.  A  sob  caught  in  her  throat.  How 
James  Barnes  must  have  hated  this  room.  His 
self-control  could  not  be  learned  in  books.  His 
generosity  was  not  taught  there;  nor  his  chiv- 
alry; nor  his  patience.  Mabel  had  a  sufficiently 
logical  mind  for  all  these  things  to  gain  their 
right  places  and  values  when  she  was  once 

214 


As  Others  see  Us 


started  on  an  affirmative  instead  of  a  defensive 
line  of  thought. 

She  had  lost  all  charm  for  him.  This  room 
was  largely  the  cause  of  its  waste.  She  suddenly 
hated  it;  and,  turning  off  the  light,  stood  there 
in  the  dark,  thinking,  thinking.  She  had  spent 
his  money  as  freely  and  carelessly  as  she  had 
wasted  his  love.  Oh,  how  dreary  everything 
was  with  the  background  gone.  The  background 
had  been  James  Barnes's  love.  She  had  thrown 
it  away.  She  remembered  the  biting  words, 
"eliminating  superfluity." 

More  than  anything  else  she  was  conscious 
of  loneliness  —  intense  loneliness.  Perhaps  he 
had  suffered  like  this.  Yes,  and  more;  for  he 
had  expected  more.  No!  No  man  can  suffer  as 
much  as  a  woman,  was  her  passionate  denial. 
He  is  a  free  and  independent  creature  and  has 
a  hundred  resources  to  a  woman's  one;  and  then 
had  he  not  declared  himself  happy?  Deepest 
sting  of  all.  Happy!  But  an  inner  voice  reminded 
her.  With  her  motor,  her  latchkey,  her  unham- 
pered bank  account,  what  freedom  had  she 
lacked  ? 

Like  hunted  creatures  her  harassed  thoughts 
flew  hither  and  thither  for  a  sign  of  com- 
fort. 

215 


The  Right  Track 


Suddenly  she  remembered.  There  was  a 
person  in  this  house  whom  James  respected 
instead  of  despising;  actively  liked  and  ap- 
proved instead  of  courteously  ignoring.  She 
could  not  be' jealous  of  insignificant  little  Ca- 
milla Lovett,  but  she  could  be  envious  of  her, 
passionately  envious.  It  would  be  a  comfort 
to  see  her,  to  speak  to  a  harmless,  kindly  crea- 
ture on  whom  James  Barnes  looked  with  in- 
terest. 

Mabel  hastened  out  of  her  room  and  down  the 
corridor  to  the  nursery.  It  was  nearly  nine 
o'clock,  but  it  seemed  to  her  it  must  be  mid- 
night. Only  two  hours  since  she  and  her  hus- 
band had  entered  that  restaurant.  It  was  in- 
credible. Those  two  hours  balanced  her  whole 
life. 

To  her  surprise  and  disappointment,  Junior 
was  awake.  He  lay  there  in  bed  watching 
Camilla  in  her  kimono  brushing  her  hair. 

"Aren't  we  late  birds?"  said  Camilla  as  Mrs. 
Barnes  came  in.  "The  days  are  so  long  the 
time  ran  away  with  us." 

The  little  woman's  happy  face  and  voice  as 
she  turned  to  greet  the  newcomer  made  her 
seem  to  the  wife  like  a  creature  from  another 
planet. 

216 


.4s  Others  see  Us 


"I  think  I  shall  go  to  bed  early  myself,"  said 
Mabel,  with  an  effort  at  lightness.  "Will  you 
come  to  my  room  and  unhook  me?  Mr.  Barnes 
has  often  suggested  my  having  a  personal  maid, 
but  somehow  I  never  wanted  one." 

It  gave  her  solace  to  mention  this  instance 
of  her  husband's  solicitude. 

"I'll  be  glad  to,"  returned  Camilla. 

"No,  no"  exclaimed  Junior. 

His  stepmother  looked  at  him.  Already  in 
these  few  weeks  there  was  color  in  the  face 
against  the  pillow. 

She  advanced  to  the  bedside.  Junior  had 
seldom  seen  her  in  evening  dress  and  he  looked 
at  her  now  with  a  sort  of  aloof  appreciation.  In 
her  blue  velvet  gown  with  that  white  lace  about 
her  bare  throat,  and  her  large  hat,  she  looked 
very  handsome  and  the  child  thought  so;  but 
she  was  only  Mamabel  just  the  same;  a  creature 
of  no  interest  except  that  in  all  their  encount- 
ers she  was  sure  to  antagonize  him. 

"Won't  you  lend  Camilla  to  me  a  little 
while?"  she  asked. 

It  was  an  extraordinary  speech  in  an  extra- 
ordinary tone,  and  the  child  dimly  felt  it.  She 
had  never  looked  at  him  like  this,  either. 

"Of  course  he  will,"  declared  Camilla  cheer- 
217 


The  Right  Track 


fully.    "He's  learning  what  is  the  only  way  to 
be  happy." 

Junior  frowned  and  thumped  the  pillow. 

"But  some  would  not  hark  to  the  angel's 
lay,"  said  Camilla,  as  she  braided  her  curly 
mane. 

"Their  earth  songs  they  loved  the  best!" 
roared  Junior,  thumping  his  pillow  again;  " and 
I  do,  too,"  he  finished  mutinously. 

Camilla  came  over  to  the  bed  and  stooping 
whispered  to  him. 

"I  don't  care,"  he  answered  loudly. 

"Oh,  yes,  you  do.  Now,  let  her  in,  let  her 
in,"  she  said  warningly.  "You  know  what  will 
happen  if  you  don't.  Here's  a  chance  to  do 
Mamabel  a  kindness.  Are  n't  you  glad?" 

"  She  does  n't  do  me  any  kindnesses,"  pouted 
Junior. 

The  words  fell  cuttingly  on  his  stepmother's 
laden  heart.  She  sat  down  on  the  edge  of  Ca- 
milla's bed  and  regarded  the  child  with  wide 
eyes.  "I'm  sorry  you  have  to  say  that,  Junior. 
Camilla  is  trying  to  make  you  kinder  than  I 
am,  is  n't  she?" 

The  little  boy  was  surprised  at  this  speech; 
but  grown-up  people  were  tricky  and  his  step- 
mother wanted  to  get  Camilla  away  from  him. 

218 


As  Others  see  Us 


He  sulked  in  silence  and  she  added,  still  keeping 
the  sorrowful  gaze  on  him :  — 

"What  did  Camilla  mean  by  telling  you  to 
let  her  in  ?  Let  whom  in  ? " 

"Oh,  an  old  angel,"  replied  Junior  after  a 
pause. 

"Tell  me  about  her,  please,  dear,  will  you?" 

Mamabel  was  in  earnest.  Perhaps  if  she  wore 
beautiful  clothes  and  had  her  hair  fixed  smooth 
all  the  time,  she  might  be  a  more  agreeable 
member  of  society.  However,  her  stepson  did 
not  feel  expansive. 

"Oh,"  he  began  grudgingly,  "she's only  an 
angel  that  flies  all  around,  trying  to  find  some- 
body that  wants  her." 

"Tell  Mamabel  her  name,"  said  Camilla,  go- 
ing back  to  the  dresser  and  beginning  on  the 
other  braid. 

"I  don't  remember,"  returned  the  child,  his 
lips  snapping  together. 

"Why,  Junior  Barnes,"  laughed  Camilla, 
turning  around  and  looking  at  him.  "  I  did  n't 
think  any  boy  would  deny  his  best  friend.  What 
will  Popinjay  say  to-morrow  when  I  tell  her?" 

"Perhaps  she  won't  come,"  returned  Junior. 
"Perhaps  it'll  be  cloudy  and  she'll  have  to  stay 
in  the  sun  and  keep  dry." 

219 


The  Right  Track 


"No,  the  stars  are  all  out  to-night  and  I'm 
sure  she'll  come,"  said  Camilla.  "Now,  then, 
out  with  the  name  of  your  best  friend." 

"Camilla,"  replied  Junior  promptly,  and  he 
joined  in  his  best  friend's  infectious  laugh. 

The  regal  lady  in  the  velvet  gown  looked  and 
listened  hungrily.  Last  night  she  would  have 
fled  from  this  nursery  talk  to  something  worth 
while. 

"If  you  knew  how  much  I  really  want  to 
know  about  the  angel,  Junior,  you'd  tell  me," 
she  said.  "What  was  her  name,  dear?  Please 
tell  me." 

Mamabel  was  in  earnest.  Junior,  glancing 
up  at  her  suspiciously  under  his  lashes,  saw  it. 

"Oh,  her  name  was  Love,"  he  remarked, 
with  a  careless  upward  inflection. 

"And  she  was  flying  around,  did  you  say? 
and  she  was  singing?"  Mamabel's  unsmiling 
lips  and  eyes  were  entreating. 

"Yep." 

"What  about,  dear?    Singing  about  what?" 

"Unselfishness,"  returned  Junior  airily. 

"And  —  and,  did  you  say  — " 

This  interest  was  truly  flattering.  Junior  was 
not  proof  against  it. 

"Yes;  she  flew  all  around,  and  lots  of  people 
220 


As  Others  see  Us     / 


would  n't  listen  to  her,  'cause  they  liked  their 
own  songs  best." 

"And  what  were  their  songs?" 

"Selfishness.  All  about  selfishness.  They  just 
loved  it.  So  they  put  up  bars  and  would  n't  let 
her  in;  so  she  flew  away,  and  she  was  'most  tired 
out  when  she  found  a  boy  that  thought  she 
looked  pretty  good ;  so  he  said, '  Come  in,  if  you 
want  to,  and  sit  down';  so  she  hurried  right  in 
and  folded  her  wings  and  sat  down  and  —  and 
—  she  lived  with  him  all  the  time  except"  — 
the  child  cast  a  glance  toward  Camilla  —  "ex- 
cept— "  he  said  slowly  again. 
-  And  Camilla,  brushing  a  curl  around  her  figner, 
took  up  the  word. 

"Except  once  in  a  long  while  when  the  boy 
forgot  what  were  the  things  that  the  angel 
could  n't  live  with,  and  he  would  frighten  her 
away  for  a  little  while;  but  he  always  called  her 
back,  because  his  heart  was  such  a  cold,  empty 
place  without  the  angel  in  it.  He  could  n't  bear 


it." 


The  eyes  of  the  listener  were  stinging. 

"It's  a  song,"  said  Junior,  tossing  the  infor- 
mation to  the  blue  velvet  figure  who  sat  so  at- 
tentively with  hands  tightly  interlaced. 

"Will  you  sing  it?"  asked  Mamabel. 

221 


The  Right  Track 


"No,"  Junior  yawned  prodigiously.  "I'm 
too — "  No,  he  must  not  admit  sleepiness. 
"Camilla  can  sing  it,"  he  added. 

"Will  she?"  Mabel  turned  toward  the  little 
figure  in  the  blue  kimono,  who  shook  her  head 
deprecatingly;  but  for  the  first  time  Camilla 
realized  that  the  mistress  of  the  house  looked 
pale;  that  this  lingering  in  the  nursery  indi- 
cated something  unusual. 

She  came  to  the  bedside,  smiling  at  the  sleepy 
boy.  "I'm  too  little  to  sing  in  such  a  bright 
light,"  she  said  deprecatingly,  and  turned  off 
all  the  electric  lights  except  the  one  at  the  head 
of  the  bed,  which  had  been  softened  with  a  rose- 
colored  screen. 

It  was  as  easy  for  Camilla  to  sing  as  to 
breathe;  so  she  sat  down  at  the  head  of  her  bed 
while  Mabel  sat  at  the  foot,  and  sang  the  song 
through. 

When  she  finished,  Junior's  hand  had  relaxed 
as  it  lay  outside  the  counterpane.  He  was  fast 
asleep. 

"That's  the  last  of  him  till  morning,"  re- 
marked Camilla,  rising. 

"Doesn't  he  have  nightmares  any  more?" 
asked  Mabel,  gazing  at  her  companion. 

"Never,"  returned  Camilla  cheerfully. 
222 


As  Others  see  Us 


"How  wonderful!" 

"Oh,  no,"  smiled  Camilla.  "The  nightmares 
were  the  wonderful  things." 

"How  happy  you  are!"  exclaimed  Mabel, 
still  regarding  her. 

"Indeed,  I  am.  Shall  we  go  to  your  room 
now,  Mrs.  Barnes?" 

Mabel  rose  silently  and  led  the  way  through 
her  study  to  the  adjoining  bedroom.  It  oc- 
curred to  her  as  she  went  how  long  it  was  since 
her  husband  had  taken  this  path.  She  tried  to 
think  how  long,  but  could  not  be  sure  in  the  con- 
fusion of  her  thoughts.  It  was  certainly  many 
weeks. 

"Why,  I  turned  on  the  light  here,"  said 
Camilla,  surprised  to  find  the  study  dark. 

"Yes,  I  turned  it  off,"  returned  Mabel,  and 
Camilla  wondered  silently. 

She  switched  on  the  light  in  the  bedroom  and 
Mabel  took  off  the  becoming  hat,  and  Camilla 
unhooked  the  festal  gown. 

"Shall  I  bring  you  a  kimono?"  she  asked,  as 
she  took  the  gown  to  the  closet. 

"No.  I  'm  not  going  to  read  to-night.  Perhaps 
I  Ve  been  using  my  eyes  too  much.  They  hurt 


me." 


Caution  had  overtaken  her.  Why  should  she 
223 


The  Right  Track 


let  this  outsider  know  that  she  was  groveling  at 
the  foot  of  a  pedestal? 

"You  do  sit  up  pretty  late,  don't  you?"  re- 
turned Camilla. 

"Yes ;  it  makes  me  clip  off  the  early  part  of  the 
day.  It  is  n't  a  very  good  habit,  and  it  is  n't 
just  right  to  Mr.  Barnes."  She  must  speak  about 
him.  She  must  speak  his  name  lightly  to  one 
who  did  not  know  that  he  despised  her. 

"He  has  taken  his  breakfasts  with  Junior  of 
late,"  said  Camilla.  "I  turned  my  room  into  a 
sitting-room  as  long  as  I  don't  sleep  in  it,  and  we 
have  breakfast  there.  So  he  has  slipped  into  the 
way  of  having  his  breakfast  sent  up  there,  too." 

A  pang  went  through  Mabel  and  she  tried  to 
laugh. 

"Oh,  then,  even  if  I  did  turn  over  a  new 
leaf,  it  would  n't  do  any  good,"  she  answered. 
"There  is  n't  room  for  four  to  have  breakfast 
in  that  tiny  place." 

In  spite  of  her  light  tone,  Camilla  still  saw 
the  speaker's  pallor  and  she  thought  her  lip 
trembled. 

"Oh,  Junior  is  getting  quite  old  enough  to 
have  breakfast  with  you  and  his  father  in  the 
dining-room  if  you  were  to  come  down.  I  sup- 
pose we  shall  soon  be  going  out  to  the  country, 

224 


As  Others  see  Us 


but  in  the  fall  you  will  probably  start  in  that 
way." 

There  was  a  hearty  note  in  Camilla's  voice 
that  was  comforting. 

"Why  not  in  the  country?"  returned  Mabel, 
beginning  to  take  down  her  hair.  "You  speak 
as  if  I  were  not  going  to  the  farm." 

"I  did  n't  know,"  said  Camilla,  certain  now 
that  she  was  in  the  presence  of  suffering. 

"Shan't  I  brush  your  hair,  Mrs.  Barnes?  I 
believe  you're  tired  to-night." 

She  drew  forward  a  chair  in  front  of  the 
dresser  and  Mabel  sat  down  in  it,  relieved  of  the 
fear  that  Camilla  would  say  good-night  and  go, 
since  she  had  no  excuse  to  detain  her. 

"Did  n't  know?"  echoed  Mabel  with  dignity 
as  Camilla  began  to  unbraid  the  dark  coronet 
which  always  surmounted  the  small  head. 
"Would  n't  I  be  likely  to  go  where  my  husband 
goes?" 

"Yes,  if  you  liked  to,"  answered  Camilla, 
heeding  the  pain  and  not  the  rebuke. 

"Well,"  Mabel  forced  a  laugh,  "you're  not 
very  complimentary." 

"I  only  meant  that  Mr.  Barnes  likes  you  to 
follow  your  inclinations  and  you  did  n't  seem 
to  care  for  the  country." 

225 


The  Right  Track 


"Oh,  you  mean  because  of  the  way  I  took  the 
news  that  he  had  bought  the  farm  ?  To  tell  the 
truth,  I  'm  quite  ashamed  of  that,  Camilla.  It 
was  —  frightfully  unsympathetic  and  not  at  all 
the  way  I  should  have  spoken." 

"It's  a  lovely  place,"  said  Camilla  in  her 
calm,  even  tones,  "but*  seedy,  and  run  down 
and  overgrown  for  lack  of  money  and  care.  Not 
at  all  the  way  it  looked  when  I  was  a  little  girl." 

"Oh,  you  remember  it,  don't  you?"  returned 
Mabel  with  a  sad  note  of  eagerness;  "and  you 
knew  my  husband  when  he  was  a  little  boy?" 

"  I  don't  remember  him  except  as  a  very  big 
boy,  always  kind  and  good  to  troublesome  little 
Camilla  Lovett." 

"  I  'm  sure  he  was.  His  kindness  is  very  deep, 
is  n't  it,  Camilla  ?  If  he  even  had  an  enemy  and 
the  enemy  made  proper  reparation  and  wished 
to  be  friends,  Mr.  Barnes  would  never  hold  out; 
don't  you  think  so?" 

"I  should  wish  to  think  so,"  answered  Ca- 
milla; and  now  she  was  sure.  The  inevitable 
climax  had  come.  She  brushed  the  long  hair 
steadily  and  avoided  the  wide  eyes  in  the  mir- 
ror. 

"Why  do  you  speak  that  way?  Are  n't  you 
perfectly  sure?" 

226 


As  Others  see  Us 


"How  could  I  be?" 

"Knowing  him  as  well  as  we  both  do,  /  am 
sure.  I  don't  think  it's  just  to  him  not  to  be 
sure.  I  should  think  you  'd  be  ashamed  to  doubt 
him,  Camilla." 

Camilla  brushed  away,  but  did  not  speak. 
Mabel  felt  a  wild  desire  to  jump  up  and  shake 
words  out  of  that  exasperatingly  serene  face. 

"Now,  take  a  little  thing,"  she  went  on, 
"like  my  rudeness  about  the  farm.  I  was  rude. 
I  admit  it.  My  brother  scolded  me;  but  I  intend 
to  make  up  for  it.  I  'm  going  out  there  and  go- 
ing to  take  the  greatest  interest.  I  want  you 
to  suggest  anything  that  I  can  do  to  help  along 
the  changes  and  improvements." 

"That  will  be  fine,"  said  Camilla. 

"And,  of  course,  such  a  big  nature  as  Mr. 
Barnes's  would  n't  lay  up  against  me  a  mistake 
like  that!" 

The  word  brought  to  her  pain-stricken  heart 
another  blighting  sentence  of  the  awful  evening: 
"That  is  one  of  many  things  you  think  which 
are  mistakes." 

Oh,  this  was  n't  a  mistake.  It  could  n't  be. 
Camilla  must  speak.  The  wife  tried  to  catch 
her  eye  in  the  mirror,  and  failing  turned  quickly 
around  and  looked  up. 

227 


The  Right  Track 


"You  know  he  would  n't,  don't  you?  You 
think  I  was  outrageous.  I  see  you  do;  but  still, 
even  so,  you  think  he'd  forgive  such  an  offense 
in  me  and  much,  much  greater  ones,  don't 
you?" 

Camilla  looked  down  into  the  wretched  eyes 
and  felt  great  compassion. 

"I  think  Mr.  Barnes  would  forgive  any  one 
offense,"  she  said  gently. 

"What  do  you  mean?  What  are  you  think- 
ing? Speak  right  out  —  what  is  in  your 
mind?" 

"I  should  be  very  sorry  to  say  the  wrong 
thing,"  said  Camilla.  "I  don't  know  you  well 
enough  to  venture,  Mrs.  Barnes.  You  might 
not  understand  my  language." 

Again  that  expression.  What  language  was 
this  of  which  she  was  ignorant?  Could  her  hus- 
band and  this  old  friend  communicate  thoughts 
which  would  exclude  her?  She  looked  back  to 
the  mirror  and  grew  very  white;  and  her  hands 
locked  together  to  conceal  their  trembling. 

This  little,  insignificant  woman,  who  could 
speak  neither  French,  German,  Italian,  nor 
Spanish,  and  whose  ignorance  she  had  tolerated 
in  the  house,  knew  a  language  her  husband  be- 
lieved his  wife  incapable  of  learning.  After  the 

228 


As  Others  see  Us 


recent  experience  in  the  nursery  she  had  a  sus- 
picion that  her  stepson  was  learning  it. 

She  remembered,  for  her  mind  to-night  was 
like  a  sensitized  plate,  that  Camilla  had  re- 
marked that  he  was  learning  what  was  the  only 
way  to  be  happy.  She  would  have  dismissed  the 
remark  once  as  a  bit  of  probable  Methodism,  to 
be  expected  in  the  narrow  horizon  of  a  little 
woman  with  a  curved  back,  from  a  country 
town. 

The  only  way  to  be  happy !  What  more  did 
any  one  need  to  know?  She  herself  had  wanted 
it  hungrily  and  gone  after  it  without  a  look  to 
the  right  or  left,  secure  in  her  vanity  from  any 
obstruction  in  her  triumphant  march.  A  great 
shock  had  awakened  her,  and  she  had  come  to 
herself,  and  looking  about  saw  only  ashes; 
tasted  only  ashes. 

She  looked  up  at  Camilla,  poised,  serene,  her 
brow  calm  under  her  waving  hair.  It  was  a 
Madonna  face,  Mabel  thought.  All  her  defenses 
broke  down  suddenly.  She  turned  around  and 
caught  her  companion's  busy  hands  in  hers. 

"Camilla,"  she  said  tearlessly,  "I  am  abso- 
lutely miserable!" 


CHAPTER  XV 

THE    FAMISHED   HEART 

CAMILLA  nodded  down  at  the  lifted  white 
face. 

"  You  had  to  learn  the  hard  way,  did  n't 
you?"  she  said  tenderly. 

"What  do  you  mean?  There  is  n't  any  other 
way  in  this  awful  world." 

"Yes,  there's  another  way." 

"What  way?" 

"To  see  and  acknowledge  the  truth." 

"Oh,  of  course.  If  I  hadn't  been  blind,  I 
should  have  seen  long  ago  that  I  was  making  a 
mistake,  if  that's  what  you  mean.  You've  seen 
it,  Camilla.  I  suppose  you've  seen  it  ever  since 
you  came  into  the  house."  Mabel  dropped  the 
hands  to  which  she  had  been  clinging  and  turned 
back  to  the  mirror,  avoiding  her  own  miserable 
reflection.  "No  doubt  you  are  glad  I'm  being 
punished,"  she  finished  bitterly. 

"No,  dear  Mrs.  Barnes.  I'm  glad  your  eyes 
are  opened,  that's  all." 

"I  had  never  had  anything  I  wanted;  and 
when  the  chance  came  I  took  it.  A  little  happi- 

230 


The  Famished  Heart 


ness,  and  then  I'm  punished  like  this!  I  wish 
I  'd  never  been  born;  or  else  that  I  might  have 
had  a  disposition  like  yours.  Nothing  ever 
ruffles  you." 

"Born  like  me?"  returned  Camilla,  mechani- 
cally brushing  the  long  hair  again.  "Poor,  sick, 
and  with  this  round  back  which  cut  me  off  from 
many  joys  in  the  lot  of  other  girls!  You  may  be 
sure  I  have  suffered." 

Mabel  recollected  what  her  husband  had  told 
her  of  the  once  acid  disposition  and  sharp 
tongue  of  this  woman.  She  had  listened  care- 
lessly, not  sharing  his  interest  in  the  transfor- 
mation. What  was  there  for  such  a  negligible 
individual  except  to  get  religion;  and  that 
was  evidently  what  Camilla  had  done,  or  she 
would  not  be  teaching  Junior  songs  about 
angels. 

"I  tried  to  get  comfort  out  of  study,  too," 
went  on  Camilla.  "I  learned  to  speak  better 
than  my  neighbors,  and  spent  hours  over  his- 
tory and  mathematics;  but  all  that  left  my  hun- 
ger unsatisfied." 

"Not  so  with  me,"  declared  Mabel.  "All  I 
asked  was  my  books,  my  study,  my  interchange 
of  thought  with  other  intellectual  people." 

"Was  it  all  you  asked?  Is  it?"  questioned 
231 


The  Right  Track 


Camilla  quietly.    "You  have  it  still,  haven't 
you?" 

"Of  course  not.  All  satisfaction  is  gone  now 
that  I  know  that  it  has  made  my  husband  un- 
happy!" 

"  Is  he  —  unhappy  ? " 

The  dark  eyes,  wet  with  pain,  lifted  to  the 
reflection  of  the  Madonna  face.  Camilla  had 
pressed  an  open  wound ;  but  apparently  she  was 
unconscious  of  it,  though  she  did  not  meet  the 
miserable  eyes. 

"Does  he  seem  happy  to  you ? "  Mabel  locked 
her  hands  together  as  she  asked  the  crucial 
question,  which  should  settle  in  her  mind  that 
her  husband  had  not  been  playing  a  part  for 
her  punishment. 

"Very,"  returned  Camilla  tranquilly.  "For 
a  time  I  believe  he  was  a  good  deal  worried 
about  Junior;  but  he  is  relieved  now.  I  'm  sure 
if  your  life  contents  you,  he  wishes  you  to  pur- 
sue it." 

"Stop  brushing  my  hair,"  said  Mabel  chok- 
ingly. "You  have  suffered.  I  should  think  you 
would  have  some  pity  on  me." 

She  seized  her  hair  in  both  hands  and  swept  it 
over  her  shoulder  and  began  to  braid  it  with 
trembling  fingers. 

232 


The  Famished  Heart 


Camilla's  hands  dropped.  "I  have  great  pity 
for  you,  Mrs.  Barnes,"  she  returned  slowly. 

"  Pretended  pity ! "  said  Mabel.  "  You  love  to 
torture  me  by  doubting  that  my  husband  will 
forgive  my  mistakes  and  be  willing  to  begin  over 
again." 

"There,  you  see,"  said  Camilla.  "Your  books 
do  not  satisfy  you.  You  think  it  is  Mr.  Barnes's 
approval  that  you  want  for  your  satisfaction; 
but  even  that  would  n't  do.  It  is  the  approval 
of  your  own  conscience  that  you  really  need." 

Her  voice  was  gentle  and  sincere  and  Mabel's 
need  was  great. 

"You  think,  then,  that  if  I  change  — become 
a  good  housekeeper  and  a  good  mother  to  his 
children,  he  will  love  me  again?" 

"Dear  Mrs.  Barnes,  we  can't  look  to  the 
prize."  A  mother  could  not  speak  more  gently 
to  her  child  than  Camilla  now  to  the  appealing 
woman. 

"But  that's  all  I  do  it  for,"  cried  Mabel 
quickly. 

"Yes,  I  know;  but  the  change  of  this  feeling 
is  what  must  come," 

"You  mean  change  of  heart  or  something 
like  that?  I  know  you're  religious,  but  I  could 
never  find  the  comfort  there  that  you  have." 

233 


The  Right  Track 


"There  is  n't  any  other  comfort,"  returned 
Camilla  simply. 

"Do  you  suppose  he'd  care  for  me  any  more 
if  I  went  to  church?  He  does  n't  go  himself." 

"It  is  n't  a  question  of  going  to  church.  The 
change  has  to  be  here."  Camilla  touched  her 
head  and  heart.  "The  thing  itself  is  always 
greater  than  the  name  of  the  thing." 

Camilla  brought  a  kimono  and  put  it  around 
the  shivering  figure.  Then  she  seated  herself  in 
a  neighboring  chair.  "Let  me  tell  you  what 
happened  to  me,"  she  began.  "I  went  to  New 
York  a  year  ago  to  take  care  of  a  dear  little  baby. 
I  was  heart-sick  and  soul-sick  and  body-sick, 
and  I  thought  to  have  that  baby  in  my  arms 
would  help  me.  It  did ;  but  better  was  to  come. 
A  friend  of  the  baby's  mother  came  to  see  who 
was  taking  care  of  the  little  one  and  she  found 
a  sallow,  famished  creature,  doing  her  con- 
scientious best,  but  always  under  a  cloud  of 
fear.  The  lady  began  to  talk  to  me.  It  was  the 
beginning." 

"Of  what  ? "  Mabel's  eyes  were  fastened  upon 
the  speaker  hungrily.  Never  at  a  lecture  on 
science  or  art  had  she  given  such  strict  atten- 
tion. 

"Of  heaven,"  declared  Camilla  quietly,  her 
234 


The  Famished  Heart 


Madonna  eyes  shining.  "My  god  had  been  my 
enemy.  He  had  made  my  back  round  for  my 
good.  I  took  some  satisfaction  every  day  in 
showing  him  that  it  had  n't  done  me  any  good. 
This  lady  brought  me  to  God  Himself,  God  who 
is  Love;  or  rather  she  did  not  take  me  to  Him; 
she  took  a  veil  away  from  my  eyes  and  slowly 
and  happily  I  learned  that  He  had  been  there 
all  the  time  and  that  my  false  god  was  a  creature 
of  my  own  invention.  God  —  Love  —  had  not 
given  me  a  deformed  back,  and  wonder  of  won- 
ders, He  did  n't  even  know  I  had  one.  At  first 
I  did  not  welcome  that  idea.  I  wanted  Him  to 
know  it  and  pity  me,  and  make  it  up  to  me 
somehow;  but  you  know  how  the  Bible  says: 
'God  is  of  purer  eyes  than  to  behold  iniquity.' ' 

"No  —  no,"  said  Mabel,  as  she  paused.  "I 
don't  know  anything.  Go  on." 

"It  was  a  study  of  many  months,  but  the 
most  rewarding  study  in  the  world.  In  the  new 
heaven  and  the  new  earth  all  things  were  being 
made  new  before  my  opening  eyes.  I  knew  God. 
I  proved  his  presence  in  countless  ways.  I  be- 
gan to  be  conscious  that  I  was  one  of  the  count- 
less creations  of  a  perfect  God  who  could  not 
create  imperfection;  that  I  therefore  lived  in  a 
perfect  universe:  his  creation;  that  He  was  om- 

235 


The  Right  Track 


nipotent,  so  what  power  could  evil  have?  that 
He  was  omnipresent,  so  where  could  evil  find 
room?  that  I,  one  of  the  ideas  of  a  loving  God, 
expressed  only  love  and  goodness." 

"Then,  how  about  everything  else?"  asked 
Mabel  quickly.  "How  about  the  evil  and  suffer- 
ing on  every  hand?  How  about  your  back?" 

"Belief  —  only  ages  of  false  belief.  We're 
the  slaves  of  it  still;  but  each  individual  can 
shake  off  the  shackles  when  he  will.  He  can't  do 
it  in  a  minute,  and  neither  can  he  say  how  soon 
or  when  or  how  it  will  be  done;  but  he  can  re- 
joice on  bended  knees  that  he  has  found  the  key 
to  life,  worth  all  the  so-called  knowledge  of  the 
ages,  and  henceforth  nothing  should  make  him 
unhappy  or  afraid." 

"But  if  God  does  n't  know  anything  about 
our  troubles — " 

"Therein  lies  our  safety,"  said  Camilla  ear- 
nestly :  "To  hold  firmly  to  reality,  to  know  that 
everything  unlike  God  is  a  cheat,  to  put  your 
hand  in  the  hand  of  Love  —  perfect  love  that 
casts  out  fear;  what  a  vista  it  opens!  Truth  and 
Love  are  active,  not  passive.  They  're  on  your 
side,  working  with  you  when  you  consciously 
work  with  them." 

Mabel's  breath  came  fast.  "  Of  course,  all  that 

236 


The  Famished  Heart 


sounds  very  strange  to  me;  and  there's  your 
back.  When  you  're  so  good,  if  your  curved  spine 
is  only  a  belief,  why  should  n't  that  knowledge 
of  nothing  but  perfection  straighten  it?" 

Camilla  smiled  at  the  speaker  happily.  "  It 
would  n't  surprise  me  any  morning  to  wake  up 
and  find  it  straight,"  she  said;  "but  I've  ceased 
looking  for  that.  It  is  n't  my  first  business.^  My 
back  does  n't  ache  any  more.  It  used  to;  and, 
Mrs.  Barnes,"  —  the  speaker's  voice  became 
still  more  earnest,  —  "it  has  come  to  seem 
such  an  unimportant  incident  in  the  life  of  one 
who  knows  she  will  live  to  eternity  in  ever- 
unfolding  consciousness  of  the  perfection  al- 
ready existing." 

"Then  won't  you  talk  to  James  about  this? 
Perhaps  we  could  — " 

A  shake  of  Camilla's  head  made  Mabel  pause. 
"You  can't  feed  a  person  who  is  n't  hungry," 
she  replied.  "You  were  hungry.  That  is  why  I 
have  said  all  this  to  you.  I  was  hungry  —  Oh, 
so  hungry  when  it  was  given  to  me.  I  drank  it 
in  as  parched  earth  drinks  up  water." 

"No  matter  whether  it  was  reasonable  or 
not?"  returned  Mabel. 

"Is  the  multiplication-table  reasonable? 
That  does  n't  admit  of  argument,  does  it?  This 

237 


The  Right  Track 


wonderful  philosophy  can  be  proved  just  as 
surely.  Hungry  as  I  was,  I  should  have  had 
enough  and  thrown  it  aside  within  a  year  if  it 
had  disappointed  me.  It  was  easy  for  me  to  be 
bitter.  I  was  a  confirmed  pessimist." 

"Then  hard  as  James  is,"  said  Mabel,  per- 
sisting in  her  one  idea,  "you  should  be  able  to 
make  him  see — " 

"Dear  Mrs.  Barnes,  it's  yourself  you  must 
deal  with." 

"But  the  only  thing  I  care  about  accomplish- 
ing is  getting  back  my  husband's  love." 

Camilla  shook  her  head,  but  her  smile  was 
loving.  "Has  n't  all  your  trouble  come  from 
thinking  only  of  what  you  wanted?" 

Mabel  bit  her  lip.  "Yes,"  she  replied  at  last. 

"Then  that's  the  first  thing  to  change,  is  n't 
it?" 

"Well,  but  I'm  perfectly  willing  to  change," 
pleaded  Mabel.  "  I  'm  willing  to  get  up  to  break- 
fast, and  to  order  the  meals,  and  look  after  the 
accounts,  and  see  more  of  Junior — "  She  paused 
in  the  list  of  things  which  Victor  had  criticized ; 
"and  so  I  don't  see  why  Mr.  Barnes  should  n't 
forgive  me." 

"In  other  words,"  said  Camilla,  "you  don't 
see  why  you  should  have  any  punishment." 

238 


The  Famished  Heart 


"Not  according  to  your  philosophy,"  re- 
turned Mabel.  "  If  evil  is  unreal,  why  should  I 
be  punished  for  something  James  only  believed 
was  so,  and  was  n't  so  at  all?" 

"Because  you  believed  in  it,"  returned  Ca- 
milla, "and  found  your  satisfaction  in  neglect- 
ing that  list  of  duties  you  just  mentioned.  He 
is  n't  being  punished.  It's  you.  We  suffer  for 
every  bit  of  belief  and  satisfaction  we  have  in 
evil,  and  are  blessed  for  every  realization  of  its 
nothingness  and  the  turning  to  good  instead. 
Whether  we  wish  to  escape  punishment  or  not, 
we  can't,  just  so  long  as  we  believe  in  the  things 
that  incur  punishment,  and  every  form  of  evil, 
little  or  great,  does  incur  it." 

"What  is  there  evil  in  the  study  of  big,  splen- 
did subjects?" 

"None,  and  you  know  it.  You  could  have 
pursued  this  culture  at  times  and  seasons  which 
would  not  have  wounded  your  husband.  You 
know  that." 

Camilla  did  not  look  like  a  Madonna  to  her 
listener  at  this  moment.  She  was  more  like  an 
accusing  angel. 

"Oh,  but  it's  cruel  -  "  began  Mabel,  and  her 
hands  flew  to  her  face  to  cover  excited  tears.  She 
was  stirred  to  the  depths  by  all  this  talk.  "It 

239 


The  Right  Track 


hurts  me  terribly,  Camilla,  that  you  should  n't 
sympathize  with  me,"  she  sobbed. 

"I'll  sympathize  with  you  and  help  you  in 
every  way  in  my  power  when  you  give  me  some- 
thing to  sympathize  with.  Self-pity,  domina- 
tion, self-justification  will  never  help  you  a  bit. 
I  can't  sympathize  with  them." 

"Domination!  What  do  you  mean?" 

"Why,  you  wish  now  to  enter  into  your 
husband,  as  it  were,  and  compel  his  forgive- 
ness and  his  love.  That  is  n't  the  way  to  get 
them." 

"Tell  me,  then,  what  is  the  way ! "  begged  the 
weeping  woman. 

"Forget  your  own  happiness,  your  own  long- 
ings. Turn  to  God,  whose  child  you  are.  His 
wisdom  is  fatherly.  His  love  is  like  a  mother's. 
He'll  teach  you  what  to  do.  No  one  else  can. 
Stop  all  exaction,  or  considering  what  others 
ought  to  do,  and  pray:  'Create  in  me  a  clean 
heart,  O  God,  and  renew  a  right  spirit  within 


me.': 


Mabel  sobbed  softly.  Camilla  rose,  and, 
approaching,  put  her  arms  around  the  shak- 
ing figure  and  pressed  the  passive  dark  head 
against  her  bosom. 

"You  say  you  don't  know  the  Bible,"  she  said 
240 


The  Famished  Heart 


softly.  "One  sentence  comes  to  me  now:  *  Little 
children,  keep  yourselves  from  idols.'" 

There  was  no  response  from  the  bowed  head, 
and  the  quiet  sobbing  continued. 

"You  can  never  begin  any  sooner,"  said 
Camilla,  "to  have  a  splendid  instead  of  a  selfish 
purpose  in  life.  Start  right  now.  Your  thoughts 
are  all  you  need  watch.  Your  actions  will  take 
care  of  themselves.  Don't  spend  any  time 
grieving  over  the  past.  You  're  not  alone,  how- 
ever Mr.  Barnes  feels,  or  whatever  he  says  or 
does.  If  you  know  God  at  all,  you  know  He 
is  omnipotent,  omnipresent,  and  omniscient. 
You  've  been  struggling  after  these  little  grains 
of  material  knowledge  all  this  time  when  Omni- 
science was  at  your  side,  unrecognized.  When 
we  have  such  a  helper,  how  can  we  be  discour- 
aged? Say  to  yourself,  over  and  over:  'Intelli- 
gence directs,  Divine  Love  protects,  and  Mind 
is  unfolding  to  me  all  I  ought  to  know  and  to 
have.'" 

The  quiet  sobbing  lessened  and  ceased.  Mabel 
lifted  heavy  eyes,  and  Camilla  smiled  down  into 
them. 

"Do  you  get  a  glimpse,"  she  asked,  "of  what 
a  glorious  thing  it  is  to  live?" 

Mabel  looked  before  her  in  silence,  but  she 
241 


The  Right  Track 


was  thinking;  and  after  Camilla  had  said  good- 
night, and  the  door  had  closed  softly  behind  her, 
she  continued  to  think. 

Toward  morning  she  slept  a  little,  and  woke 
at  the  sound  of  her  husband's  laugh.  Junior 
had  evidently  run  to  greet  him  as  he  came  up 
to  the  nursery  breakfast.  With  a  pang  of  recol- 
lection Mabel  leaped  out  of  bed  and  set  her  door 
ajar  and  her  ear  to  the  opening.  Mr.  Barnes 
was  speaking. 

"By  the  way,  Bessie,"  she  heard  him  say, 
"if  you  light  the  fire  in  the  den  in  my  absence, 
never  leave  it  as  you  did  last  night,  with  no 
fender  around  it.  That  wood  snaps.  There  are 
two  holes  burned  in  the  rug.  You  might  set  the 
house  afire." 

Mabel  could  not  hear  the  maid's  response, 
but  her  husband's  voice  came  distinctly :  — 

"Oh,  you  didn't,  eh?  I'll  have  to  talk  to 
Miss  Lovett  then.  I  thought  it  was  strange  the 
chairs  were  out." 

The  listener  heard  the  knock  on  the  nursery 
door,  the  entrance  and  closing,  and  she  stood, 
her  own  door  in  hand  and  sick  loneliness  at  her 
heart. 

"Even  that  was  wrong!"  she  thought;  "and 
now  he  will  know  that  I  did  it." 


CHAPTER  XVI 

BEGINNING  AGAIN 

THE  world  did  not  stand  still  because  Mabel 
Barnes  had  ceased  to  be  happy.  Her  engage- 
ments for  the  day  stared  up  at  her  from  the 
calendar.  The  car,  after  taking  Mr.  Barnes  to 
the  office,  always  stood  at  the  door,  waiting  for 
orders.  She  was  such  a  busy  woman  that  the 
chauffeur's  position  was  no  sinecure;  but  his 
evenings  were  usually  his  own,  and  being  a 
family  man,  he  appreciated  this  and  jnade  no 
complaint  of  the  constant  duty  of  the  day. 

The  cook  looked  up  in  surprise  when  her  mis- 
tress came  into  the  kitchen  that  morning.  There 
was  some  displeasure  in  the  look,  too. 

"I  thought  I  would  begin  to  plan  the  meals, 
Katie,"  said  Mabel,  rather  intimidated  by  her 
reception. 

"It's  dissatisfied  ye  are,  then,"  was  the 
response. 

"Dissatisfied  with  myself,  yes.  I  think  I've 
left  it  all  to  you  too  long." 

"Sure,  I  don't  mind,"  returned  Katie,  quite 
sincerely.  With  her  telephone  and  a  grand  dis- 

243 


The  Right  Track 


regard  of  the  monthly  reckoning,  she  wanted 
no  interference. 

"I'm  going  to  try  it  awhile,  anyway,  Katie. 
I  'm  getting  an  early  start  this  morning  so  as  to 
go  to  market." 

"To  market,  is  it!"  responded  the  astonished 
cook.  "Sure,  is  Mr.  Barnes  in  trouble?" 

She  had  been  queen  of  this  kitchen  before 
Mabel's  marriage,  and  felt  privileged  to  ask 
questions  of  the  young  lady  who  had  so  far  kept 
her  place  as  boarder. 

"No,  but  I  feel  I  want  to  know  more  about 
my  own  house.  You  '11  have  to  help  me,  Katie. 
I'm  very  ignorant." 

This  speech  failed  to  mollify  the  cook,  who 
turned  to  the  sink  grumbling  under  her  breath 
as  she  turned  on  the  faucets  and  stormily  filled 
the  dishpan. 

But  Mabel  persisted.  She  had  her  tablet  of 
paper  and  her  pencil  with  her.  Katie's  answers 
to  her  questions  being  grudging,  she  went  her- 
self to  the  icebox  and  thought  she  detected  some 
odor. 

'  This  must  be  emptied  and  scrubbed  to- 
day," she  said. 

Katie,  who  had  followed  her,  wore  a  counte- 
nance of  amazed  injury. 

244 


Beginning  Again 


"Scrubbed,  is  it!"  she  repeated,  as  if  unable 
to  believe  her  own  ears.  "Ladies  mind  their 
own  affairs." 

"  This  is  my  affair,  Katie.  Did  you  think  this 
was  your  refrigerator?  I  don't  blame  you  if  you 
did." 

Mrs.  Barnes  did  not  speak  with  any  excite- 
ment. She  had  on  her  hat  and  her  tailored 
gown  and  to  Katie's  eyes  was  a  most  misguided 
interloper. 

"There's  no  person  can  tell  me  when  my  ice- 
box needs  scrubbing "  returned  the  cook,  very 
red  in  the  face;  and  if  Mabel's  heart  had  been 
lighter,  she  would  have  trembled  before  her. 
"Sure,  yer  husband's  no  poor  clerk  that  ye 
need  be  'tendin'  on  the  market,"  added  the 
irate  woman,  aghast  at  the  prospect  of  having 
certain  plans  and  habits  of  her  own  come  to 
an  end. 

"  I'm  the  best  judgeof  that,"  returned  Mabel. 
"Will  you  scrub  the  icebox  to-day?" 

"Sure,  I  will  not,  thin."  Katie  spoke  in  a 
scarlet  rage.  "Ye  can  suit  yerself  to-day,  for 
I  'm  off  in  an  hour." 

"Very     well,"     returned    Mabel     quietly. 
"  You  're  a  fine  cook,  Katie.    I'll  give  you  a 
reference  if  you  ever  want  it." 
245 


The  Right  Track 


The  young  mistress's  heart  was  too  heavy 
to  care  who  deserted  her.  The  one  essential 
being  she  had  lost;  nothing  else  mattered;  but 
this  heavy  heart  was  not  hard.  Submerged  un- 
der the  sense  of  her  own  shortcomings,  what 
were  the  peccadilloes  of  a  careless  and  extrav- 
agant cook? 

Katie  stared  at  her  in  utter  amazement.  The 
woman  who,  as  had  often  been  remarked  in  the 
kitchen,  refused  to  "lift  a  finger,"  -this 
woman  now  took  the  threat,  so  appalling  to 
most  ladies,  with  the  utmost  calm. 

" It's  her  ignorance,"  thought  Katie.  " She's 
the  ignorantest  thing  in  town!" 

Then  she  proceeded  to  put  on  the  well-de- 
served screws. 

"And  if  I  go,"  she  added,  "Bessie '11  go, 


too." 


"Very  well,"  returned  Mrs.  Barnes  tran- 
quilly. 

Katie  glared  at  her  a  moment  longer;  then, 
seeing  no  sign  of  weakening,  she  flung  down  her 
dishmop  as  an  insignia  of  office  and  stalked  out 
of  the  room  toward  the  back  stairs. 

Mabel  left  by  the  other  door  and  sought  the 
living-room  where  Bessie  was  dusting. 

Living-room !  She  looked  about  it  with  seeing 
246 


Beginning  Again 


eyes.  She  had  not  moved  for  the  last  nine 
months  among  the  cultured  women  of  the  city 
without  seeing  charming  homes  where  harmony 
of  color  and  rich  and  effective  furnishings  glad- 
dened the  eye  and  touch.  They  had  never 
roused  her  ambition.  An  anchorite's  cell  and 
sufficiently  stocked  bookshelves  satisfied  her. 
It  was  easy  to  take  for  granted  that  James 
Barnes  was  satisfied  with  things  as  she  had 
found  them  in  his  home.  She  remembered  all  too 
vividly  now  his  tentative  suggestions  in  the  au- 
tumn of  changes  for  the  better,  but  all  was 
vague  in  his  mind,  and  meeting  no  response 
he  had  not  urged  anything. 

She  had  given  luncheons  to  her  clubwomen, 
but  always  in  some  hotel  or  a  private  room  at 
Florio's.  Now  her  sad  eyes  swept  the  unlovely 
room;  then  she  spoke  to  the  maid  in  even 
tones :  "Bessie,  I  Ve  just  come  from  Katie.  She 
is  offended  because  I  wish  to  order  the  meals 
and  look  after  the  details  of  the  kitchen  a  little. 
I  asked  her  to  scrub  the  icebox  and  she 's  going 
away.  She  says  you'll  go,  too." 

Bessie,  who  had  observed  with  surprise  her 
mistress's  appearance  at  this  hour  of  the  morn- 
ing, listened  to  her  in  amazement  and  toward  the 
end  with  apprehension. 

247 


The  Right  Track 


"Oh,  I'd  hate  leaving  Miss  Lovett,"  she 
exclaimed. 

"  I  'm  glad  of  that.  I  don't  want  you  to  go. 
I  shall  need  you  to  cook  the  dinner  to-night. 
Perhaps  you  could  talk  with  Katie.  I'm  very 
fond  of  studying  things,  Bessie,  and  now  I  want 
to  study  housekeeping.  I  know  Katie  has  fallen 
into  habits  and  will  feel  at  first  that  I  'm  in  the 
way;  but  perhaps  she  can  see  that  I  have  a  right 
to  do  it  and  that  every  head  of  a  house  ought  to 
do  it." 

Bessie  looked  very  sober.  She  was  thinking 
hard.  She  believed  there  was  no  easier  place  in 
town  and  the  wages  were  good.  Besides,  it  would 
be  like  going  out  of  the  sunshine  to  leave  Miss 
Lovett. 

"You  and  Katie  talk  it  over,"  went  on 
Mrs.  Barnes.  "  I  'm  going  to  market  now,"  and 
Mabel  went  out  to  the  waiting  car. 

"She'll  get  tired  of  it,"  soothed  Bessie  to  the 
irate  Katie  a  little  later. 

Several  times  that  day  at  the  office  James 
Barnes  thought  again  of  that  act  of  his  wife  in 
lighting  the  fire  last  night  in  his  den. 

"Poor  little  blunderer,"  he  reflected.  "I  sup- 
pose she  sat  there  in  one  of  those  chairs  and 
scourged  herself;  but  it's  an  acute  attack.  It's 
248 


Beginning  Again 


rather  too  bad  that  I  started  her  to  thinking; 
but  I  shall  not  worry.  Habit  is  strong  and  she  '11 
soon  be  herself  again." 

That  night  he  came  home  to  dinner.  His  wife 
wore  a  pretty  gown  and  her  hair  was  carefully 
dressed. 

After  the  usual  conventional  exchange,  Bessie 
left  the  room  with  the  first  course. 

"  I  had  a  little  encounter  to-day,"  said  Mabel, 
"and  came  off  victorious." 

"Of  course,  my  dear,"  agreed  her  hus- 
band. 

Every  word  he  said  hurt  her,  however  inno- 
cently intentioned;  but  she  went  on  calmly:  — 

"Not  exactly.  It  was  with  the  potentate  in 
our  kitchen,  Katie.  I  put  in  my  oar;  asked  her 
to  scrub  the  ice-box  and  told  her  I  could  order 
the  meals.  She  was  furious  and  threatened  to 
leave." 

"Dangerous  experiment,"  remarked  James 
Barnes.  "It's  a  pretty  good  rule  in  this  world 
to  let  well  enough  alone." 

Mabel's  cheeks  flushed;  but  she  swallowed 
and  controlled  her  voice. 

"  I  did  n't  think  it  was  well  enough  for  me  to 
be  a  stranger  in  my  own  kitchen,"  she  answered. 
"I  wanted  to  change  all  that." 

249 


The  Right  Track 


Her  husband  did  not  avoid  her  eyes,  but  his 
were  coolly  indifferent. 

"Better  not,  perhaps,"  he  replied.  "You 
were  quite  right  last  evening  in  saying  that  I 
could  afford  the  small  difference  it  may  make. 
Don't  worry  yourself.  I  mean  it." 

Bessie  came  in  with  the  fish.  Its  blank  eyes, 
Mabel  thought,  were  not  more  expressionless 
than  those  before  which  hers  dropped.  Camilla 
had  reminded  her  that  she  must  not  resent 
punishment. 

She  sent  Bessie  out  for  a  forgotten  sauce. 

"I  want  to  tell  you,"  she  said,  with  a  sick 
sense  of  futility,  "that  Katie  stayed  and  the  ice- 
box was  scrubbed." 

"Bravo,"  returned  James  Barnes  pleasantly, 
beginning  to  serve  the  fish.  "Score  one." 

His  wife  welcomed  now  the  presence  of  the 
waitress.  Her  impetuous,  imperious  nature 
was  crucified  in  the  knowledge  that  her  hus- 
band knew  that  her  novel  action  had  been  per- 
formed with  the  motive  of  reparation  and  yet 
that  he  was  untouched  by  it.  How  ungenerous 
not  to  extend  a  word  of  acknowledgment;  of 
encouragement. 

Yet  she  knew,  who  better?  that  there  was  not 
an  ungenerous  fiber  in  the  man's  nature.  She 

250 


Beginning  Again 


had  wasted,  devastated  all  that  could  respond 
to  her.  It  was  a  relief  in  her  despair  to  have 
him  say  that  his  plans  had  changed  and  that 
he  was  going  to  New  York  the  following  day. 

One  of  the  clubs  to  which  she  belonged  was 
working  ardently  for  suffrage.  She  had  been  lis- 
tening to  noble,  self-abnegating  speakers  this 
afternoon  and  going  through  her  own  duties  as 
secretary  like  an  automaton. 

To-morrow  was  free  of  engagements.  James 
was  going  to  New  York.  She  would  go  out  to 
the  farm.  She  wished  to  see  it  before  Elaine 
came  home.  Would  he  confide  in  Elaine?  Would 
Elaine's  neutrality  relapse  into  the  old  con- 
tempt ?  The  girl  had  not  come  home  since  last 
September.  She  had  elected  to  spend  the  holi- 
days with  a  schoolmate.  Her  father  had  visited 
her  twice.  The  last  time  had  been  in  February; 
but  her  stepmother  had  never  seen  her  since 
that  long  ago  September  evening  when  the 
crude  young  girl  made  no  attempt  to  conceal 
her  scorn. 

It  was  a  very  different  Elaine  externally  who 
greeted  her  father  with  smiling  affection  in  the 
elegantly  appointed  reception  room  of  the  school 
on  a  June  morning. 

He  held  her  at  arm's  length  and  surveyed 
251 


The  Right  Track 


her  admiringly.  She  had  altered  wonderfully 
for  the  better.  The  roses  and  soft  curves  of 
youth  were  hers  now.  She  had  always  had  a 
slim  grace,  but  her  crisp,  spoiled-child  brusque- 
ness  was  replaced  by  a  gracious  repose  and  self- 
possession  which  spoke  wonders  for  the  ladies 
who  had  polished  and  softened  her  angles. 

Mr.  Barnes  was  presented  to  so  many  other 
examples  of  social  perfection  that  he  began  to 
grow  restive. 

"  Say,  Elaine,"  he  confided  at  last,  when  they 
had  risen  from  a  formal  luncheon,  "this  Vere 
de  Vere  business  is  getting  on  my  nerves.  I'm 
beginning  to  step  on  my  own  feet  and  sym- 
pathize with  that  fellow  who  said  he  felt  like 
an  accident  going  somewhere  to  happen.  If 
there  are  n't  any  more  formalities,  let 's  get 
out  of  here." 

Elaine's  little  laugh  was  just  right.  It  ex- 
pressed leniency,  affection,  respectful  amuse- 
ment. 

"We  may  go  any  time,"  she  replied.  "There 
are  none  of  the  ordinary  closing  ceremonies 
here." 

"Ordinary!  I  should  think  not!"  returned 
her  father;  "but  it's  all  right.  I've  got  my 
money's  worth  in  these  cheeks"  —  he  pinched 

252 


Beginning  Again 


them  —  "and  your  bright  eyes.  Everything 
further  is  velvet." 

He  found  a  good  deal  of  velvet  on  the  train 
going  home.  Elaine  looked  exquisite  in  her  per- 
fectly tailored  costume,  and  was  an  epitome  of 
girlish  complaisance. 

"I  have  n't  had  time  to  ask  for  Mamabel," 
she  said  when  they  were  started.  "  She  is  quite 
well,  I  hope?" 

"Entirely  so.  Busy  as  ever.  That  young  step- 
mother of  yours  is  the  busiest  woman  in  town." 

The  least  deprecating  cloud  shadowed  Elaine's 
smooth  forehead. 

"'Stepmother'  is  a  rather  unpleasant  word," 
she  replied.  "I'm  so  much  obliged  to  Junior 
for  inventing  something  prettier.  How  is  the 
dear  child?" 

"He  has  improved  as  fast  as  you  have.  Ca- 
milla has  done  wonders  for  him." 

"Yes,  that  has  really  been  the  burden  of 
your  letters  lately.  I  remember  Miss  Lovett. 
She  used  to  be  at  Cousin  Cherry's  sewing  some- 
times when  I  went  there  as  a  little  girl." 

"Yes;  but  she  was  an  unripe  persimmon  in 
those  days.  Now  she's  the  ripe  article  full  of 
sweetness." 

Elaine  nodded.  "Quite  wonderful  that  she 
253 


The  Right  Track 


dropped  out  of  the  sky  like  that  into  your 
office." 

"Yes,  the  sky  is  the  accepted  dwelling  for 
angels,  I  believe." 

"Oh,"  Elaine  raised  her  eyebrows  with  a 
little  smiling  protest,  "don't  frighten  me  by 
suggesting  that  I  have  to  live  up  to  an  an- 
gel!" 

"I  have  something  worse  than  that  to  tell 
you,  Elaine.  You  know  how  I  love  the  old  place 
at  Brierly.  Well,  take  a  brace  now,  I  Ve  bought 
it." 

Elaine  leaned  back  in  her  armchair  and  the 
onlooker  might  have  suspected  some  strain  on 
her  expression  of  charming  receptivity. 

"Now,  don't  shoot  till  I  explain.  There  is  n't 
going  to  be  the  least  pressure  on  any  one  of  the 
family  to  go  there;  but  I  want  it  to  look  attrac- 
tive enough  to  catch  you  sometimes.  I'd  like 
Junior  to  have  some  of  the  experiences  that  I 
had.  A  child  without  any  memories  of  the  coun- 
try is  cheated  of  his  birthright,  according  to  my 
way  of  thinking." 

"  It  would  be  good  for  Junior,"  agreed  Elaine. 
"  I  Ve  been  wondering  where  you  and  Mamabel 
intended  to  go  this  summer." 

"My  dear,  I  can  take  you  anywhere  you 
254 


Beginning  Again 


want  to  go  for  a  few  weeks ;  or  had  you  some 
plan  in  mind  with  your  girl  friends?" 

"No,  I  had  n't  made  any  plans.  I'm  afraid, 
though,"  -  Elaine  gave  her  mischievous,  but 
sweet  and  deprecating,  smile,  —  "  I  'm  afraid 
I  have  n't  yearned  for  Brierly." 

"Just  as  you  say,  Girlie,  about  that,  but  give 
Junior  a  good  send-off.  Help  me  put  some 
finishing  touches  on  the  house." 

"Mamabel  does  n't  feel  enthusiastic,  then?" 
Elaine's  question  was  pleasantly  conversational. 

Her  father  shook  his  head,  smiling.  "She's 
city  broke,  you  see.  She  would  n't  mind  being 
forty  miles  from  a  lemon;  but  when  it  comes 
to  exile  from  the  libraries,  it's  a  serious  matter. 
She's  a  great  student." 

Under  Elaine's  faultless  exterior  her  mind 
was  busy. 

Her  father's  telegraphic  letters  had  told  her 
little  of  the  outcome  of  his  matrimonial  venture, 
but  she  was  about  to  see  with  her  own  eyes. 

"Yes,"  she  replied.  "You've  held  her  up  to 
me  as  an  example  in  that;  but,"  again  the  mis- 
chievous and  sweet  deprecation,  "I  hope  she's 
not  likely  to  put  me  through  an  examination." 

"I'll  do  it  instead.  What  do  you  know  about 
wall-paper,  Elaine?" 

255 


The  Right  Track 


She  shrugged  her  shoulders.  "Very  little,  I  'm 
afraid.  Not  as  much  as  Mamabel  does,  prob- 
ably." 

"Oh,  that  has  n't  any  printing  on  it,"  he  re- 
turned good-humoredly.  "  It  is  n't  in  her  class." 

The  light  remark  was  confirmation  to  Elaine 
of  what  she  had  always  suspected.  Bitter  re- 
sentment toward  her  stepmother  burned  be- 
neath her  charming  mask. 

Was  ever  a  man  on  earth  so  good,  so  gener- 
ous as  Daddy;  and  he  had  had  to  wait  for  her 
home-coming  for  assistance  and  sympathy. 

"You  might  try  me,  anyway,"  she  said 
lightly.  "I  have  an  idea  that  I  would  n't  give 
Junior  the  nightmare  with  my  selections." 

Her  father  took  out  paper  and  pencil  and  they 
made  a  list  of  the  well-remembered  rooms. 

"I  have  Lucretia  Watt  installed  in  the 
kitchen,  and  her  cousin,  Pete  Miller,  in  the 
barn,"  explained  Mr.  Barnes,  "and  Victor  Ford 
is  overseeing  repairs  for  me." 

"Who?"  asked  Elaine,  dangerously  near  to 
losing  her  poise. 

"Victor  Ford.  You  remember  Mamabel's 
brother,  my  lawyer.  It's  quiet  times  with  him 
just  now  and  he  is  being  a  most  efficient  right 
hand  for  me  in  this  matter.  I  have  n't  even 

256 


Beginning  Again 


bought  furniture  yet.  Thought  you  might  like 
to  furnish  a  playhouse  as  well  now  as  you  did 
years  ago." 

"It  sounds  like  a  lark,"  returned  Elaine,  no 
hint  in  her  expression  suggesting  that  furnish- 
ing a  house  in  Brierly  was  her  idea  of  nothing 
to  do.  Her  worldly  knowledge  had  expanded 
wonderfully  in  the  last  nine  months. 

Mabel  had  sent  the  car  to  the  station  to  meet 
them.  Mr.  Barnes  did  not  betray  his  surprise  at 
the  sight  of  Dick,  but  he  noted  another  instance 
of  his  wife's  repentant  though tfulness. 

When  they  ascended  the  home  steps  and  went 
into  the  living-room,  Elaine  cast  a  'comprehen- 
sive glance  around  her  old  habitat. 

"What  a  barracks!"  was  her  unspoken  com- 
ment. 

Her  stepmother  emerged  from  the  back  of  the 
room. 

"If  she  weren't  so  pale,  and  had  some  ex- 
pression, she'd  be  extremely  good-looking," 
thought  Elaine,  as  she  presented  her  cheek  to 
be  kissed. 

"  I  'm  so  glad  you  Ve  come  home,"  said  Mabel. 
"I'm  sure  your  father  has  missed  you  every 
day." 

James  Barnes  kissed  the  speaker  lightly. 
257 


The  Right  Track 


"He'd  better  dare  not  to,"  returned  Elaine, 
shaking  her  gloved  finger  at  him. 

"How  well  you  look!"  continued  Mabel, 
gazing  at  the  girl  wistfully. 

"Oh,  I'm  in  rude  health.  Where's  Junior? 
I  must  see  him.  Come  upstairs,  Daddy." 

They  went  away  and  Mabel  lifted  a  vase  of 
roses  from  the  table  and  gazed  at  them;  then 
she  lifted  them  to  her  face  where  cool  lips  had 
touched. 


CHAPTER  XVII 

MABEL   SEES   THE   FARM 

ON  the  day  her  husband  went  to  New  York 
Mabel  Barnes  wired  her  brother  that  she  was 
coming  out  to  the  farm. 

Through  Pete  Miller  the  news  had  spread,  and 
a  knot  of  persons  with  errands  at  the  railroad 
store  saw  the  tall,  slender,  dark-haired  woman 
descend  from  the  train  and  greet  her  brother. 

Pete  Miller  was  sitting  as  nonchalantly  as  he 
was  able  in  a  shiny,  new  five-passenger  car 
drawn  up  beside  the  platform.  Motor-cycles 
and  runabouts  there  were  in  town;  but  cars 
of  this  pretension  had  as  yet  only  swept  through 
the  village,  shaking  Brierly  dust  from  off  their 
tires.  Jim  Barnes's  new  automobile  was  the 
pride  of  the  town. 

"The  best  ain't  any  too  good  for  Jim,  I  tell 
ye,"  remarked  his  proud  neighbors,  and  such 
as  saw  his  wife  to-day  repeated  the  phrase. 

"Well,  you  have  given  us  a  surprise  party," 
remarked  Victor,  as  he  welcomed  his  sister. 
"  We  are  n't  ready  for  you.  What  did  you  come 
for?  Pete,  this  is  Mrs.  Barnes.  Pete  is  the 

259 


The  Right  Track 


coming  chauffeur  of  Elm  Farm:  the  slowly- 
coming." 

The  speaker  put  his  sister  into  the  tonneau, 
then  himself  joined  Pete,  who  was  lounging, 
his  hands  resting  carelessly  on  the  wheel,  the 
consciously  admired  and  envied  cynosure  of 
gazing  eyes. 

"Get  over  here,  Pete,"  added  Victor.  "I'll 
take  her  home." 

"Just  a  minute,  Mr.  Ford,"  responded  Pete 
with  unprecedented  quickness.  "Just  till  we 
get  out  o'  sight  o'  the  store." 

"All  right,"  laughed  Victor,  dropping  into 
the  seat.  "We're  headed  right  and  I  don't 
believe  you  can  smash  anything  till  we  get 
across  the  bridge." 

A  little  later,  with  only  the  willows  to  witness 
his  deposition,  Pete  changed  places  with  Victor, 
who  speeded  up  the  village  street,  annihilating 
the  space  between  the  store  and  the  cottage 
by  the  big  rock. 

"Don't  you  ever  drive  as  fast  as  this,  Pete," 
he  said,  as  he  slowed  up  preparatory  to  entering 
the  avenue.  Pete  grinned. 

Mabel  exclaimed  in  surprise  at  the  loveliness 
of  the  gothic  arch  under  which  they  passed. 

"Oh,  it's  a  great  place,"  remarked  Victor, 
260 


Mabel  sees  the  Farm 


with  the  pride  of  proprietorship.  "  I  Ve  found 
my  vocation  all  right,  Mabel.  Foreman  and 
overseer  for  a  landed  proprietor;  but  why 
did  n't  you  wait  a  couple  of  weeks  ?  Did  n't 
Barnes  tell  you — " 

"Oh,  it  was  a  sudden  fancy  of  mine,"  said 
Mabel.  "He  went  to  New  York  to  get  Elaine, 
and  I  thought  I  'd  run  out  here  and  see  how  you 
were  getting  on.  I  believe  I  was  a  little  home- 
sick for  you,  Victor." 

The  young  man  cast  a  look  at  the  speaker 
over  his  shoulder.  He  suddenly  realized  that  his 
sister  did  not  look  quite  natural. 

"Seems  to  me  you're  pale,"  he  returned. 
"Better  cut  out  the  midnight  oil  for  a  while 
and  come  here  and  study  botany." 

"I  don't  care  if  I  never  see  another  book," 
was  the  amazing  reply.  "Drive  slower,  please." 

"Hoity-toity!"  remarked  Victor.  "Here  is 
a  case  of  indigestion !  Well,  I  'm  glad  you  did 
come,  Mabel.  We've  been  wiping  off  the  slate 
so  far,  and  now  it's  clean  and  ready  for  a  fresh 
start." 

"We  begin  together,  the  farm  and  I,"  thought 
the  wife. 

As  the  slowly  moving  car  emerged  from  the 
elm  avenue,  she  gazed  up  at  the  house  brave 

26! 


The  Right  Track 


in  its  buff  paint  with  white  trimmings.  Two 
men  were  running  lawn-mowers  over  the  grassy 
slopes,  and  Victor  drove  the  car  up  to  the 
front  piazza,  renewed  now  in  every  ailing  bit 
of  wood. 

Leaving  the  car,  the  mistress  of  it  all  stood 
there,  looking  off  in  every  direction  and  think- 
ing of  her  husband's  boyhood.  Two  hundred 
feet  away  glistened  the  forest-bordered  pond. 
She  could  hear  the  merest  tinkle  of  its  water- 
fall, feeding  the  babbling  brook  that  ran  off 
through  the  meadow. 

The  terrace  in  front  of  the  house  had  been 
made  smooth;  the  old  elm  trees  rising  at  either 
end  were  magnets  for  the  birds.  At  the  right 
of  the  house  rose  an  artificial  mound  of  earth 
with  grassy  sides,  its  edges  planted  with  flowers, 
and  from  its  midst  rose  a  second  smaller  mound 
grassed  all  over  and  surmounted  with  a  clump 
of  cedar  trees. 

Every  inch  of  these  broad  acres  held  for  her 
husband  some  association  to  which  she  had  re- 
peatedly refused  to  be  introduced. 

Victor  had  gone  with  Pete  to  the  improvised 
garage  and  she  stood  there  looking  through  a 
mist  at  the  rolling  landscape  disappearing  in 
forest  trees. 

262 


Mabel  sees  the  Farm 


"Oh,  be  good  to  me,  be  good  to  me,"  her  heart 
cried  out  to  the  sun-bathed  scene.  "Help  me!" 

Victor  appeared  around  the  corner  of  the 
house  and  was  surprised  at  the  expression  on 
her  face.  He  felt  a  sudden  dismay.  "She  had 
done  it,  then,"  just  as  he  had  expected.  They 
had  quarreled.  Never  mind.  She  was  his  sister. 
She  had  always  been  a  good  one;  and  she  was 
unhappy. 

"Hope  you  don't  mind  eating  in  the  kitchen," 
he  said.  "If  it  was  a  little  warmer,  we'd  come 
out  under  the  trees." 

Lucretia's  sharp  eyes  had  discerned  the  lady 
in  the  motor  as  it  glided  up  to  the  house.  "And 
that,"  she  thought,  with  some  excitement, 
"that's  Mis' Barnes!" 

Lucretia  had  become  an  object  of  interest 
in  the  village  and  many  a  neighbor  had  trudged 
up  the  elm  avenue  to  sit  and  talk  with  her  while 
she  worked  to  feed  the  little  army  of  workmen 
who  were  rejuvenating  the  house  and  environs. 

Charity  Shanklin  was  among  these  visitors. 
She  wore  an  important  air,  as  befitted  a  con- 
nection of  a  rumored  millionaire,  and  addressed 
Lucretia  at  first  as  one  having  authority.  Lu- 
cretia, however,  with  nine  points  of  the  law 
in  her  favor,  tacitly  refused  to  be  patronized; 

263 


The  Right  Track 


so  Charity  found  it  more  satisfying  to  descend 
to  terms  of  equality  and  pump  Lucretia  as  to 
Camilla  and  the  Jims,  Junior  and  Senior.  She 
had  inquired  eagerly  on  her  last  visit  if  Mrs. 
Barnes  had  appeared,  and,  finding  she  had 
not,  ventured  to  prognosticate  that  she  never 
would. 

"Just  to  think  of  that  sly  Camilla,"  she  said, 
"never  telling  me  she  was  going  to  apply  for 
the  position  of  that  young  one's  nurse.  Ca- 
milla's a  close  one.  'T  was  me  told  her  little 
Jim  did  n't  have  an  atom  of  care  from  his 
stepmother."  And  from  this  Miss  Shanklin 
proceeded  to  a  spirited  description  of  Mabel, 
which  received  a  halt  when  a  young  man  in 
gray  flannel  shirt,  and  trousers  tucked  into  his 
boots,  entered  the  kitchen.  She  supposed  him 
to  be  one  of  the  workmen,  and,  despite  his  pre- 
possessing appearance,  waited  impatiently  for 
him  to  disappear  and  give  her  a  chance  to  fin- 
ish a  sentence  which  was  to  rip  the  last  shred 
of  Mrs.  Barnes's  character  as  a  housekeeper 
into  ribbons,  and  finish  her  job  neatly. 

"I  have  a  man  out  here  to  clean  the  cistern," 
said  Victor.  "It'll  be  one  more  mouth  to  feed, 
Lucretia." 

"All  right.  Know  Miss  Shanklin,  Mr.  Ford? 
264 


Mabel  sees  the  Farm 


She's  a  connection  o'  Mr.  Barnes.  This  is  Mis' 
Barnes's  brother,  Cherry." 

Lucretia  had  a  sense  of  humor,  and  the  con- 
sternation in  her  caller's  face  made  her  stride 
to  the  sink,  and  catching  up  a  pail,  begin  to 
pump  vigorously,  muttering  something  about 
"makin'  sure  of  some  water." 

Victor  shook  hands  with  the  stranger,  his 
sunshiny  smile  falling  on  her  dismayed  effort 
at  self-possession.  "Busy  times,"  he  said. 

"What's  he  doing  here?"  asked  Charity 
when  he  had  disappeared.  ^ 

"What  ain't  he  doin',"  responded  Lucretia. 
"That  young  man's  got  faculty.  I  don't  know 
but  he'll  get  some  ginger  into  Pete  yet.  He  can 
make  him  hustle,  anyway,  and  it's  more'n 
any  one  else  ever  did;  but  Pete'd  do  anything 
for  the  sake  o'  drivin'  that  car.  He 's  more  tickled 
than  a  boy  with  red  boots." 

"Is  there  an  automobile?"  responded  Char- 
ity with  awe. 

"Law,  yes,"  replied  Lucretia.  "There's 
everything,  or  goin'  to  be.  I  never  heard  o'  such 
plans." 

"It's  a  mercy  he  did  n't  hear  me,"  declared 
Miss  Shanklin  meditatively.  "I  was  only  goin' 
to  say — "  She  paused ;  apparently  her  courage 

265 


The  Right  Track 


had  been  dashed.  "I  didn't  know  as  Mrs. 
Barnes  had  a  brother,"  she  finished.  "He's 
handsome.  I  've  heard  she  was." 

"If  she  's  as  clever  as  her  brother,  it's  all 
anybody  would  ask,"  replied  Lucretia. 

Miss  Shanklin  rocked  in  silence  and  watched 
her  companion  set  the  table  for  dinner  for  the 
workmen.  -  She  had  nothing  to  complain  of  in 
Lucretia;  for  the  morning  after  the  latter  had 
accepted  James  Barnes's  proposition  she  had 
gone  to  the  parsonage  and  taken  Miss  Shanklin 
into  a  conference  of  ways  and  means.  All  the 
good  pieces  of  furniture,  the  old  mahogany 
which  had  been  the  pride  of  the  present  owner's 
mother,  were  now  scattered  about  James 
Barnes's  city  home  in  unregarded  shabbiness, 
only  needing  to  be  refinished  to  show  their 
value.  The  Metcalfs  had  furnished  with  their 
own  scanty  belongings,  and  Charity  had  helped 
Lucretia  to  dispose  of  them  all.  A  few  things 
they  had  kept  themselves;  the  rest  they  gave 
away,  Lucretia  perfectly  willing  that  Cherry 
should  help  her  in  the  role  of  Lady  Bountiful. 

To-day,  as  Mabel  entered  the  house,  she  saw 
it  empty  as  a  cup.  The  workmen  had  gone. 
The  stairs  went  up  out  of  a  small  hallway. 
There  was  a  front  and  a  back  parlor,  and  at  the 

266 


Mabel  sees  the  Farm 


side  of  the  latter  a  library.  At  the  rear  in  the 
ell  were  a  dining-room  and  kitchen.  Five  bed- 
rooms and  a  storeroom  were  on  the  second  floor, 
and  the  attic  was  divided  into  two  bedrooms, 
the  north  and  the  south  chamber,  as  they  were 
called;  the  south  one  had  belonged  to  James 
Barnes  once,  and  his  boyish  eyes  could  see  the 
stars  only  through  the  branches  of  the  great 
elms.  Cold  sometimes  —  O,  how  cold!  —  in 
winter;  hot  sometimes  —  O,  how  hot!  —  in 
summer :  but  home ;  and  a  wonderful  place 
from  which  to  hear  the  frogs  and  katydids  and 
crickets. 

Mabel  looked  about  the  empty  rooms  now 
as  she  passed  through,  an  alien,  longing  to  be 
naturalized.  Honesty  compelled  her  to  admit 
that  a  week  ago  she  would  have  been  sure  to  find 
an  excuse  which  would  relieve  her  of  any  part 
in  furnishing  this  house.  To-day  she  suffered 
cruelly  because  she  might  have  no  hand  in  it. 
She  knew  if  she  went  to  her  husband  and  asked 
as  a  favor  to  join  in  the  care  of  the  furnishing, 
he  would  look  at  her  with  a  sort  of  surprised 
tolerance,  and  consent.  Oh,  yes,  he  would  con- 
sent. He  would  always  show  her  kindness  when 
she  forced  herself  upon  his  attention.  Kindness ! 
She  forced  back  the  stinging  tears, 

267 


The  Right  Track 


Patience.  The  change  could  not  be  wrought 
in  a  minute,  and  she  must  not  cry  out  at  the 
punishment. 

"Some  job  to  make  this  place  livable,  eh?" 
asked  Victor  cheerily;  "but  good  fun,  too,  for 
any  one  who  likes  it.  Barnes  seems  to  think 
Elaine  won't  mind  lending  a  hand." 

Mabel  swallowed.  Even  to  Victor  it  had  not 
occurred  that  she  might  help.  She  summoned 
her  courage. 

"  I  daresay  even  she  is  n't  such  a  greenhorn 
as  I  am,"  she  answered;  "but  there's  no  telling 
what  I  'm  going  to  learn  in  the  way  of  domes- 
ticity. I  told  you  I  was  tired  of  books.  I'm  be- 
ginning to  study  housekeeping  now." 

Her  brother  gave  her  a  quick  glance.  He 
could  have  sworn  that  her  lip  quivered  before 
she  caught  it  under  her  teeth. 

"Well,  you're  coming  to  close  quarters  with 
the  kitchen  works  to-day,"  he  said,  leading  the 
way  through  the  bare  dining-room  with  its  win- 
dows looking  down  toward  the  avenue  of  elms. 

Lucretia  met  them  at  the  kitchen  door,  and 
Mabel  saw  that  she  was  wiping  her  hand  on  her 
apron  preparatory  to  greeting,  so  she  gave  the 
hard  hand  a  hearty  grip,  humbly  eager  to  im- 
press its  owner  favorably. 

268 


Mabel  sees  the  Farm 


Lucretia  examined  the  young  wife  with  criti- 
cal curiosity,  and  all  the  damning  things  she 
had  heard  about  her  went  trooping  through  her 
head;  but  Mabel's  brother  had  won  Lucretia's 
heart  by  what  she  termed  his  horse-sense,  and 
she  held  her  own  estimate  of  the  new  mistress 
of  the  house  in  abeyance. 

"I  can't  see  as  she's  anyway  stuck  up,"  she 
thought,  as  Mabel  pulled  off  her  gloves  and  sat 
down  to  the  kitchen  table  to  be  helped  to  pork 
and  beans. 

"We'd  have  had  a  steak  if  we'd  known  you 
were  coming,"  said  Victor;  "would  n't  we,  Lu- 
cretia?" 

"Just  as  lieves  to  as  not,"  agreed  Lucretia, 
setting  a  dish  of  mealy  potatoes  on  the  table  and 
eying  Mabel's  gray  tailored  suit  approvingly. 

"Real  plain  good  dress,  I  call  it, "she  thought. 

"  I  'm  glad  you  did  n't.  I  'm  glad  to  be  re- 
minded of  pork  and  beans.  We  have  n't  had 
them  for  a  long  time.  I  had  done  a  great  deal 
of  housework  when  I  was  married,  Lucretia, 
and  for  a  long  time  I  just  wanted  to  rest  from 
it;  but  now  I 'm  taking  it  up  again  and  I'm  so 
glad  to  get  ideas." 

"There!"  thought  Lucretia  triumphantly; 
"does  that  sound  stuck  up  and  heartless?  Give 

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The  Right  Track 


a  dog  a  bad  name  and  hang  him.  I  wish  Cherry 
Shanklin  was  here  this  minute.  Married  to  a 
millionaire  and  glad  to  eat  pork  and  beans. 
Pretty  as  a  picture  she  'd  be  if  she  was  n't  so 
awful  pale." 

Her  pallor  impressed  her  brother,  too.  All  the 
familiar  self-confidence  of  the  flattered  club- 
woman was  gone  from  his  sister's  manner. 
Every  word  she  spoke  but  verified  his  suspicion 
that  some  shock  had  taken  place  in  her  life. 

"The  worm  will  turn,"  he  reflected,  as  he 
scattered  pepper  on  his  potato,  "and  it  looks  as 
if  this  time  the  worm  had  administered  a  pretty 
stiff  dose  of  medicine  and  she  had  taken  it. 
Poor  girl." 

"One  of  your  new  connections  was  here  yes- 
terday, Mabel,"  he  remarked,  —  "sister  of  the 
minister,  Lucretia  says.  Every  time  I  passed  the 
door  I  heard  her  dressing  down  somebody.  I 
thought  I  caught  Elaine's  name  once.  I  warn 
you  to  walk  Spanish  when  you  meet  that 
lady." 

Lucretia  felt  her  cheeks  grow  warm  as  she 
moved  from  stove  to  table.  "Will  you  have  a 
cup  o'  coffee,  Mis'  Barnes  ?  Yes,  Cherry  is  kind 
o'  talkative." 

"H'm,"  grunted  Victor.  "  She  sounded  to  me 
270 


Mabel  sees  the  Farm 


as  though  she  needed  to  go  to  the  hospital  and 
have  her  gossip  taken  out." 

This  amused  Lucretia  to  the  extent  of  a 
laugh.  "You  see  it's  a  small  town,"  she  re- 
marked apologetically. 

"And  after  all,"  said  Mabel,  "I  suppose 
each  of  us  needs  to  have  something  taken 
out." 

"Now,  ain't  she  sweet-spoken?"  thought 
Lucretia ;  "  and  those  eyes  ain't  the  eyes  of  any 
hypocrite." 

"I  guess  we  could  make  you  some  rosier  if 
you  'd  stay  out  to  Brierly  awhile,  Mis'  Barnes," 
she  said. 

"I  intend  to,"  returned  Mabel.  "I'm  very 
eager  to  come." 

Victor  choked  on  a  swallow  of  coffee.  They 
were  using  kitchen  dishes,  heavy  crockery  and 
steel  knives  and  forks. 

"Your  little  boy,  too.  I  believe  he'll  pick 
right  up  here." 

"I'm  sure  of  it,"  replied  Mabel.  "With  Ca- 
milla to  take  care  of  him  and  this  sweet  air 
to  breathe,  he'll  be  a  happy  child  this  sum- 


mer." 


"Wish  I  thought  she'd  be  a  happy  woman," 
muttered  Lucretia,  when  dinner  was  over  and 

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The  Right  Track 


she  saw  the  guest  strolling  across  the  grass 
toward  the  mound  with  her  brother.  "Wonder 
what  she  looks  like  when  she  smiles.  If  she  ever 
had  any  spring  she  ain't  got  it  now,  and  she's 
about  as  pleasant-spoken  as  any  one  I  ever 
saw.  Wonder  why  Hetty  Landor  wanted  to 
stuff  Cherry  with  all  that  truck,  and  Cherry 
swallowed  it  whole.  'Have  her  gossip  cut  out.' ' 
Lucretia  rested  her  hand  on  her  hip  and  laughed 
silently.  "Say,  there's  lots  o'  folks  needs  that 
operation." 

Her  watching  eyes  saw,  from  the  window 
over  the  sink,  Victor  taking  his  sister's  arm 
and  helping  her  up  the  flight  of  wooden  steps 
that  led  to  the  walk  on  the  edge  of  the  grassy 
mound. 

"It's  a  wonder  some  girl  has  n't  caught  him 
before  this,"  she  thought  admiringly.  "'F  I 
was  to  write  a  ro-mance  I  'd  make  him  the  hero 
and  have  princesses  nghtin'  for  him."  From 
this  fancy  she  descended  to  earth  at  the  sight 
of  Pete  cautiously  reconnoitering  at  the  kitchen 
door.  "Yes,  come  along  in,"  she  said,  begin- 
ning to  clatter  with  pots  and  pans.  "Eat  your 
dinner  and  get  through  with  it.  Mis'  Barnes 
is  goin'  back  at  three  o'clock." 

"Ain't  shesweet,  though,"  said  Pete  devoutly, 
272 


Mabel  sees  the  Farm 


sitting  down  at  the  table  and  beginning  an  eager 
attack. 

"Forgot  to  taste  of  her,"  retorted  Lucretia, 
making  a  mighty  racket  with  the  crockery. 

Victor  pointed  out  to  his  sister  the  border  of 
verbenas  and  pansies  growing  at  the  side  of  the 
path  they  were  treading,  while  on  the  other  hand 
rose  the  secondary  mound  of  grass  from  which 
grew  the  clump  of  cedars. 

"Of  course,  you  see,  Victor,"  said  Mabel 
suddenly,  "that  something  has  happened  to 


me." 


"And,  of  course,  you  know,"  he  returned 
quickly,  "that  if  there's  anything  I  can  do  for 
you,  I  want  to  do  it." 

"You  tried  to  save  me,"  she  said,  "and  I 
would  n't  be  warned.  Now  I  have  to  work  out 
my  own  salvation.  No  one  can  help  me." 

"And,  of  course,  you  can  do  it,"  returned 
Victor  stoutly,  his  earnestness  a  protest  against 
the  hopelessness  of  her  passive  look. 

"I  should  have  been  very  courageous  once," 
replied  Mabel.  "Now  I  know  I  have  nobody 
but  you,  Victor." 

"What  do  you  mean  by  that?  Has  Barnes —  " 

She  smiled  up  at  her  brother's  reddening,  ap- 
prehensive face. 

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The  Right  Track 


"You  know  James,"  she  said.  "  You  know  he 
does  n't  know  how  to  be  anything  but  kind  to 
jany  one  weaker  than  himself.  1 'm  only  reaping 
what  I've  sown;  but,"  she  reiterated  it,  "you 
are  all  I  have  in  the  world,  Victor." 


CHAPTER  XVIII 

FURNISHING  THE   FARMHOUSE 

ON  the  morning  after  Elaine's  arrival,  the 
family  gathered  at  the  breakfast  table  for  the 
first  time  since  she  had  left;  but  she  had  no  idea 
that  this  was  so. 

She  knew  Junior  was  enjoying  a  novel  privi- 
lege, or  rather  trying  to  enjoy  it,  for  Camilla 
had  declined  to  come  downstairs  and  his  heart 
was  painfully  divided. 

Mamabel  had  treated  him  very  differently 
ever  since  the  night  he  told  her  about  the  angel, 
and  he  was  convinced  that  his  missionary  work 
had  availed.  Sister  was  wonderfully  agreeable, 
but  he  did  n't  care  for  her  butterfly  kisses  and 
patronizing  caresses. 

Her  talk  of  New  York  absorbed  the  attention 
at  the  breakfast  table,  and  Junior,  in  spite  of  his 
gala  attire  in  place  of  the  dressing-gown,  and  the 
grown-up  air  of  the  meal,  felt  that  'mid  pleas- 
ures and  palaces  tho'  he  might  roam,  there  was 
no  place  like  the  little  room  upstairs  where  he 
and  Camilla  ate  eggs  tete-a-tete, 

27S 


The  Right  Track 


Later  in  the  morning  Mabel  saw  the  motor 
come  and  bear  Elaine  away.  The  girl  was  to 
meet  her  father  by  appointment  and  give  the 
day  to  choosing  furnishings  for  the  farm.  Mabel 
had  thrown  out  a  hint  or  two  to  Elaine  that 
she  would  be  glad  to  help;  but  they  had  been 
ignored  very  sweetly.  Elaine's  manners  were  a 
marvel  to  one  who  had  seen  the  unpromising 
chrysalis. 

The  dignified  demeanor  of  her  stepmother 
won  the  girl's  approval,  and  she  realized  how 
much  more  trying  their  life  might  be  if  Mabel's 
manners  conformed  to  the  crudeness  of  the  home 
which  had  satisfied  her.  No  such  taste  as  that 
evinced  here  must  be  permitted  to  clash  with 
the  sophistication  Elaine  had  gained. 

Mabel  had  recounted  at  the  breakfast  table, 
thinking  the  confession  more  easily  made  in 
public,  that  she  had  visited  the  farm  and  had 
eaten  dinner  in  the  kitchen. 

" It's  a  lovely  old  place.  I  was  sorry  I  had  n't 
seen  it  sooner,"  she  said. 

"Do  you  mean  you  never  had  seen  it!"  ex- 
claimed Elaine  in  well-bred  surprise. 

"I  never  had,"  admitted  Mabel,  coloring  to 
the  back  of  her  pretty  neck. 

So  she  was  left  at  home  this  morning  to  the 

276 


Furnishing  the  Farmhouse 

study  of  her  now  obnoxious  calendar  and  the 
fulfilling  of  her  engagements. 

Her  husband  had  turned  as  he  was  going  out. 

"  If  Elaine  meets  me  at  eleven  and  sends  back 
the  car  for  you,  will  that  be  in  time?"  he  asked. 

"Plenty  of  time,"  she  returned,  controlling 
her  desire  to  cry  out  that  she  did  n't  want  the 
car;  that  she  should  never  want  it  again! 

The  way  her  husband  had  taken  the  news  that 
she  had  visited  the  farm  was  just  as  he  ac- 
knowledged each  one  of  her  efforts ;  with  kindly 
understanding,  but  the  sincere  wish  that  she 
would  not  trouble  herself. 

"It  will  kill  me!"  she  exclaimed  to  Camilla. 

"No,  indeed,"  returned  the  latter.  "You  are 
going  to  learn  true  happiness.  No  human  being 
can  give  it  to  you.  If  your  husband  took  you 
in  his  arms  now  and  covered  you  with  love  and 
praise — " 

"Oh,  I  should  die  of  happiness!" 

"No,  that  wouldn't  be  harmony  yet;  not 
without  the  foundation,  the  knowledge  of  the 
basic  truth  of  being  on  which  we  build  safely. 
You'd  be  happy  for  a  while  and  your  hurts 
soothed  until  something  else  came  up  to  jar  you 
apart.  You  must  have  something  to  build  on. 
You  must  know  that  you  and  your  husband 

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The  Right  Track 


have  each  your  place  in  the  Divine  Mind  and 
that  you  cannot  hurt  each  other;  know  that 
unselfishness,  the  Golden  Rule,  is  the  law  of  life. 
As  we  were  saying,  it  comes  as  a  new  language 
to  most  of  us  and  we  have  to  bring  patience  and 
humility  to  the  study  of  it." 

"  I  must  begin,"  said  Mabel.  "  I  must  study." 
And  study  she  did,  as  never  before  in  her 
brain-worshiping  life.  She  procured  a  Bible 
and  the  commentary  upon  it  which  Camilla 
used;  and  for  a  long  time  to  come,  her  other 
books  would  grow  dusty.  Every  mountain  of 
her  ambition  had  been  laid  low  and  in  her  new 
humility  she  found  her  valley  of  decision. 

Elaine  admitted  to  herself  that  her  step- 
mother was  entirely  different  from  what  she  had 
expected.  Mabel  did  not  seem  especially  happy, 
but  at  least  no  one  could  accuse  her  of  aggres- 
siveness in  any  form.  She  was  a  bit  haughty, 
perhaps,  in  a  quiet,  self-contained  way,  and  not 
at  all  demonstrative ;  but  on  the  whole,  Elaine, 
glass  of  fashion  and  mold  of  form,  —  good 
form,  —  considered  that  it  was  no  wonder  her 
father  had  been  attracted.  The  only  blot  to  her 
on  her  stepmother's  'scutcheon  was  that  she 
had  not  helped  Daddy  out  in  his  pet  plans  re- 
garding the  farm.  Now  that  she  had  come,  her 

278 


Furnishing  the  Farmhouse 

stepmother  seemed  to  wish  to  have  a  hand  in 
the  matter. 

Nothing  seems  precious,  thought  sophisti- 
cated Elaine,  until  some  one  else  has  possession 
of  it.  No;  Mamabel  must  be  punished  for  her 
opposition  to  anything  that  was  dear  to  Daddy's 
heart.  Moreover,  she,  a  mature  person,  had 
lived  in  this  old  house  nearly  a  year  and  made 
no  effort  to  redeem  its  forlorn  living-room.  How 
could  she  be  trusted  with  furnishings ! 

So  Elaine  went  firmly  forth  to  the  fine  shop 
devoted  to  house  decoration,  where  in  the  wall- 
paper department  her  father  had  promised  to 
meet  her. 

Meanwhile  James  Barnes  in  his  office  was 
being  confronted  with  an  unexpected  business 
complication  which  necessitated  his  presence  at 
an  important  conference  in  another  office.  All 
other  considerations  were  swallowed  up  in  the 
imperative  need  for  action ;  but  as  he  looked  at 
his  watch  the  memory  of  Elaine  and  their  plans 
swept  over  him.  At  the  same  moment  Victor 
Ford  walked  into  his  office. 

"My  dear  boy,"  said  the  grain  dealer,  speak- 
ing hurriedly,  "my  lucky  star  never  did  me  a 
better  turn !  Elaine 's  waiting  for  me  at  Flan- 
ders's  to  select  paper  and  furniture  and  all  the 

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The  Right  Track 


rest  of  it.  Here  are  the  data,"  seizing  a  bunch  of 
papers  from  a  desk  drawer,  "the  measurements 
and  everything.  Take  them  over  to  her,  will 
you,  and  help  her  select  ?  I  can't  possibly  go,  a 
business  call,  and  I  want  to  get  her  while  she's 
in  the  mood.  See  you  to-night  if  not  before.  I 
have  n't  a  minute  now."  And,  seizing  his  hat, 
James  Barnes  hurried  out  of  the  office,  leaving 
his  brother-in-law  standing  with  his  mouth 
open,  staring  dazed  at  the  bundle  of  papers  in 
his  hands. 

"Well,  I  '11  be—"  he  began.  He  had  intended 
to  make  a  report,  saying  that  everything  was 
ready  for  just  this  operation,  and  then  try  to 
see  his  sister,  whose  face  had  haunted  him  since 
he  saw  her  last. 

In  his  extreme  reluctance  to  share  this  errand 
with  the  most  rude  and  disagreeable  girl  he  had 
ever  met,  he  had  to  remind  himself  that,  what- 
ever her  faults,  she  had  played  no  part  in  Mabel's 
present  unhappiness.  He  could  hardly  doubt, 
however,  that  she  would  add  to  it. 

But  there  she  was  at  Flanders's,  waiting,  and 
in  his  role  as  farm  factotum  he  could  not  fail  to 
carry  the  papers  to  her  and  give  her  her  father's 
message. 

"Wall-paper  department,"  Mr.  Barnes  had 
280 


Furnishing  the  Farmhouse 

shouted  over  his  shoulder  as  he  disappeared. 
Accordingly  to  the  wall-paper  department  at 
Flanders 's  Victor  hied  himself,  bristling  with 
antagonism. 

As  he  left  the  elevator  at  the  right  floor  he 
saw  a  graceful,  girlish  figure,  perfectly  dressed 
in  the  height  of  fashion,  with  none  of  its  eccen- 
tricities. As  she  turned  her  face  so  he  could  see 
it,  his  mental  comment  was  that  she  had  on  the 
most  chic  and  becoming  hat  he  ever  saw  on  a 
golden  head.  She  was  smiling  as  he  perceived 
her  and  speaking  in  a  low  voice  to  the  clerk  who 
was  unrolling  paper  over  the  rack  for  its  ex- 
hibition. 

Her  soft  curves  and  healthful  coloring,  her 
gracious  smile,  her  street  costume  with  the  per- 
fect hat,  combined  to  make  her  for  the  moment 
unrecognizable  as  the  anaemic  heroine  of  the 
most  trying  evening  of  Victor's  life;  but  as  her 
eyes  turned  toward  the  clicking  door  of  the  ele- 
vator, hoping  to  see  her  father's  figure,  she  per- 
ceived a  young  man,  remarkably  good-looking, 
whom  she  felt  she  had  met  somewhere.  She 
could  not  place  him  at  once,  but  had  a  vague 
consciousness  of  a  disagreeable  association  with 
him.  Not  sure  but  that  it  was  some  one  to  whom 
she  ought  to  bow,  she  redoubled  her  attention  to 

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The  Right  Track 


the  wall-papers,  and  Victor  strolled  over  to  a 
counter  laden  with  samples  of  chintz,  while  he 
awaited  the  arrival  of  a  white-paper  face  out 
of  which  would  look  eyes  like  blue  marbles. 

Elaine's  thoughts  were  not  now  on  the  pa- 
pers. It  would  be  a  poor  beginning  to  her  new 
life  at  home,  to  cut  so  attractive  and  prosperous- 
looking  a  man  as  this  vaguely  familiar  person. 
She  cudgeled  her  brains  and  made  occasion  to 
turn  carelessly  in  a  manner  to  catch  a  helpful, 
though  fleeting,  glance.  The  stranger's  unrec- 
ognizing  eyes  were  looking  straight  toward  her. 

It  was  enough.  She  knew  that  Victor  Ford 
was  at  Brierly.  Her  father  had  spoken  of  him 
this  morning.  However,  here  he  was,  without 
a  doubt,  wearing  that  same  unsmiling,  specula- 
tive look  which  she  had  resented.  In  her  new 
code,  the  mere  fact  that  you  hated  a  man  was 
no  excuse  for  failing  to  greet  him  if  he  happened 
to  be  your  father's  brother-in-law.  She  believed 
him  waiting  for  her  recognition. 

"Oh,  how  do  you  do,  Mr.  Ford,"  she  said, 
with  a  gracious  movement  forward,  as  she  ex- 
tended her  hand.  "Pardon  me  for  not  recog- 
nizing you  at  once.  The  light  -  '  If  it  was  any 
gratification  to  her  to  see  a  man  "struck  all  of 
a  heap,"  as  Victor  afterward  expressed  it,  she 

282 


Furnishing  the  Farmhouse 

had  it  now  as  the  young  man  whisked  off  his 
hat  and  shook  hands  with  her.  He  colored  to  his 
temples.  This  exquisite  creature,  this  —  Elaine! 

"  I  'm  afraid  I  don't  bring  my  welcome  with 
me,  Miss  Barnes,"  he  said.  "Your  father  was 
called  to  some  business  meeting  and  could  n't 
come  and  he  has  made  me  his  deputy.  Here  are 
the  papers  with  the  measurements." 

He  conquered  his  embarrassment  as  he 
searched  in  an  inner  pocket  for  the  papers. 
Elaine's  smile  vanished. 

"You  men!"  she  said;  but  her  voice  contin- 
ued smooth.  "There  is  no  dependence  to  be 
placed  on  you !  I  believe  I  will  wait  till  another 
day." 

"That  is  for  you  to  decide.  Your  father  is 
very  eager,  however,  to  get  Junior  into  the  coun- 
try, and  I  came  in  this  morning  to  tell  him  that 
the  well  and  cistern  have  been  cleaned  out  and 
that  everything  is  ready  for  occupation  except  a 
few  trifles  like  beds  and  chairs." 

Elaine  listened  composedly,  but  she  heard 
scarcely  half  of  what  Victor  said.  She  was  think- 
ing of  that  unspeakable  evening  when  she  had 
insulted  his  sister,  and  his  eyes  had  revealed  his 
contempt  for  her.  What  a  grotesque  idea  that 
they  should  furnish  the  farm  together!  and  if 

283 


The  Right  Track 


his  sister  had  shown  a  proper  spirit,  it  would  not 
be  necessary. 

She  would  remind  him  that,  rude  child  as  she 
had  been  a  year  ago,  she  had  nevertheless  been 
entirely  correct  in  her  estimate. 

"I  believe  these  selections  might  have  been 
made  some  time  since,"  she  said  sweetly,  "but 
there  seemed  no  one  to  do  it.  Daddy  has  been 
waiting  for  me;  so  I  suppose  he  would  rather  I 
did  not  postpone  it." 

The  shot  hit  the  mark.  Victor  bit  his  lip. 
There  was  nothing  to  say.  No  one  knew  better 
than  he  that  she  was  right.  He  believed  that  a 
little  rip  in  this  silky  manner  would  be  sufficient 
to  reveal  underneath  the  ruthless  girl  he  re- 
membered. 

"I  suppose  you  don't  need  me  any  more, 
then?"  he  returned  briefly. 

Elaine  was  content  with  her  triumph,  for  his 
face  was  transparent. 

"Why,  I  think  you  could  help,  for  the  place 
is  fresh  in  your  mind.  Of  course,  if  you  have 
some  other  engagement  — " 

Victor  shook  his  head.  "My  time  belongs  to 
your  father  at  present,"  he  returned  shortly. 

"Then  let's  get  right  to  work,"  she  said.  "You 
keep  the  papers,"  she  handed  them  back  to  him, 

284 


Furnishing  the  Farmhouse 

and  the  attentive  clerk  placed  two  chairs  for 
what  he  considered  the  most  charming  couple 
he  had  seen  in  many  a  moon.  The  young  man 
was  a  bit  grumpy,  and  before  the  selections 
were  completed,  the  salesman  had  dropped  his 
theory  of  lovers,  and  decided  that  they  were 
brother  and  sister. 

From  the  wall-papers  they  went  to  the  rugs, 
and  throughout  the  experience  Victor  reluc- 
tantly acknowledged  the  assurance  with  which 
his  companion  sought  and  found  the  appropriate 
articles.  She  made  many  deferential  appeals  to 
his  judgment,  to  all  of  which  he  made  the  brief- 
est possible  response,  always  agreeing  with  her 
opinions.  Mabel  was  unhappy  enough,  and 
Elaine  had  not  scrupled  to  accent  her  sins  of 
omission  to  himself.  The  girl  was  freshly  ar- 
rived and  perhaps  had  no  suspicion  of  her  step- 
mother's troubled  heart.  He  knew  his  sister 
well  enough  to  be  certain  she  had  not  worn  it  on 
her  sleeve;  but  Mabel's  voice  rang  in  his  ears : — 

"I  have  no  one  but  you  in  the  whole  world, 
Victor." 

He  knew  that  James  Barnes  had  not  fallen  to 
earth  from  the  heights  of  his  infatuation  with- 
out plenty  of  bruises;  but  his  sympathy  with 
the  father  need  not  extend  to  this  cocksure 


The  Right  Track 


young  woman.  She  should  understand  from  the 
start  that  he  was  first,  last,  and  all  the  time, 
Mabel's  brother. 

Elaine's  unruffled,  charming  manner  gave  no 
evidence  that  she  knew  that  she  had  wounded 
him,  and  that  he  was  unforgiving.  She  per- 
sisted in  asking  his  advice  and  forcing  him  to 
consult  their  list,  all  the  time  increasingly  deter- 
mined to  subjugate  him. 

"Seeing  that  Junior  is  the  central  figure  in 
all  this,  I  think  the  southeast  room  should  be 
the  nursery,  don't  you?"  she  asked. 

"It  would  be  very  good,"  returned  Victor, 
"except  that  it  has  no  chimney.  The  room  be- 
hind it  facing  east  has  had  an  air-tight  stove 
in  it." 

Elaine  nodded.  "  I  'm  so  glad  you  thought  of 
that,  for  it's  very  important,  especially  if  Ca- 
milla should  want  to  stay  on  with  him  into  the 
autumn  for  any  reason.  I  suppose  in  the  end 
Daddy  will  rout  out  the  furnace  and  have  some 
modern  heating  apparatus  put  in;  but  it's  all 
such  an  experiment,  I  hope  he  '11  wait  till  an- 
other year." 

They  were  looking  at  Delft  blue  and  white 
rugs  for  the  nursery,  and  now  Elaine  consulted 
the  east-room  measurements. 

286 


Furnishing  the  Farmhouse 

The  interested  salesman  addressed  Victor: 
"I  think  your  wife  will  be  much  pleased  with 
this  reversible  article,"  he  said. 

Victor  gave  him  a  stony  gaze.  "We're  not 
married,"  he  replied  distinctly;  and  Elaine, 
very  much  engrossed  in  the  list,  grew  somewhat 
pinker  at  the  dryness  of  Victor's  denial. 

"Pardon  me,"  returned  the  salesman.  "I 
heard  you  say  nurs  —  pardon  me." 

He  saw  no  reason  why  this  young  man's  glare 
should  seem  to  expect  him  to  trail  in  the  dust. 
Surely  the  fellow  should  be  flattered. 

In  each  department  they  visited,  the  clerk 
was  sure  to  make  some  reference  to  their  sup- 
posed relationship,  and  it  amazed  Victor  that 
Elaine  never  seemed  to  resent  it.  When  it  came 
to  a  point  of  too  acute  embarrassment  for  him- 
self, he  was  obliged  to  set  the  salesman  right 
and  he  always  did  it  with  such  curt  frankness 
as  to  give  his  fair  companion  a  little  sting.  She 
was  becoming  much  more  interested  in  him 
than  in  her  errands. 

She  turned  to  him  at  last  with  a  little  air  of 
appeal. 

"Do  give  me  something  to  eat,"  she  said. 
"I'm  so  tired." 

"Oh,  oh,  certainly,"  returned  Victor,  stuffing 
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The  Right  Track 


the  lists  into  his  pocket.    "Where  shall  we 
go?" 

Elaine  named  a  place  and  Victor  de- 
murred. 

"I'm  afraid  I  don't  look  the  part.  I'm  more 
fit  for  a  lunch-counter  to-day.  The  honest 
workingman  did  n't  come  in  town  last  evening 
with  the  idea  of  taking  a  fashionable  young 
woman  out  to  lunch." 

"You'll  do  quite  well,"  returned  Elaine, 
smiling  at  him. 

He  preferred  that  she  should  not  smile  at  him. 
She  looked  too  pretty. 

When  finally  they  were  at  the  table  she  sighed 
with  relief  and  took  off  her  gloves. 

"Your  hands  make  me  wish  I  could  eat  with 
mine  in  my  pockets,"  he  remarked,  spreading 
out  his  strong  fingers  which  had  been  ham- 
mered and  cut  variously  in  his  unaccustomed 
duties. 

"Do  you  like  it  out  there?"  asked  Elaine 
wearily. 

"Yes,  very  much.  What  will  you  have  to 
eat?" 

"The  idea  of  asking  me!"  ejaculated  Elaine 
faintly.  "As  if  you  could  n't  see  that  I'm  be- 
yond telling." 

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Furnishing  the  Farmhouse 

She  knew  instinctively  that  it  expands  the 
heart  of  one  human  being  to  feed  another. 

"Well,  let  me  see."  Victor  picked  up  the 
card  he  had  pushed  toward  her.  It  was  a  busy 
hour  and  no  waiter  came  to  them  at  once.  "I 
have  just  a  dollar  and  ninety  cents  in  my  pocket. 
If  you  had  come  to  my  lunch-counter,  you 
could  have  had  quite  a  lot  to  eat;  as  it  is,  I 
think  a  sandwich  and  a  cup  of  tea  for  you  and 
a  fee  to  the  waiter  will  about  clean  me  out.  I  '11 
try  not  to  watch  you  hungrily." 

"Oh,  how  ravenous  you  make  me!"  ex- 
claimed Elaine,  coming  to  life  charmingly.  She 
held  up  a  silver  vanity  case.  "If  I  had  a  purse 
with  me  instead  of  this,  we  could  pool  our  re- 
sources; as  it  is,  give  me  that  card  at  once, 
and  I'll  show  you  what  a  good  housekeeper 
I  am!" 

Were  those  the  blue  marbles,  those  bright, 
mischievous  eyes?  How  dared  she  laugh  into 
his,  and  make  such  a  reference  after  the  number 
of  times  she  had  been  pressed  upon  him  in  the 
last  two  hours  ? 

"We'd  better  put  on  a  placard  before  we  go 
out  again,"  he  returned,  "to  make  it  clear  that 
you  're  not  a  housekeeper  yet." 

"How  cross  it  made  you,  did  n't  it?"  she  re- 
289 


The  Right  Track 


marked  artlessly,  while  she  scanned  the  menu. 
"My!  Such  a  confirmed  bachelor  tone  as  you 
used  to  deny  the  allegation  and  despise  the 
allegator!" 

"  Well,"  returned  Victor,  somewhat  confused, 
and  unable  to  conceal  it  from  her,  even  under 
a  dogged  tone,  "I  didn't  think  it  was  very 
pleasant  for  you." 

"  I  did  n't  mind.  What  difference  did  it  make  ? 
And  the  next  time  you  refuse  me,  please  do  so 
in  a  more  complimentary  tone." 

The  roguish  glance  she  sent  him  required  a 
smile  from  the  recipient.  He  forgot  Mabel  for 
the  moment  and  gave  it.  Then  he  remembered 
and  reassumed  an  impassive  demeanor. 

"Now,  let  me  see,"  she  continued,  satisfied 
for  the  moment  with  the  involuntary  flattery 
of  his  look.  Victor,  from  the  moment  she  dis- 
covered him  this  morning,  had  been  elevated 
to  the  role  of  one  of  her  coming  court  of 
suitors.  "We  can  have  seventy  cents'  worth 
apiece,"  she  went  on.  "What  will  you  have 
to  drink?" 

"Milk,"  was  the  unexpected  response. 

She  laughed  across  at  him  merrily.  "I'm 
surprised  you  have  the  habit,"  she  returned. 
"I  thought  farmers  always  sent  all  the  milk 

290 


Furnishing  the  Farmhouse 

away.  Are  you  sure  you  would  n't  rather  have 
molasses  and  water?" 

"No,  that's  what  they  use  in  the  haying 
season,   isn't   it?"   he   answered.    "Give  me 


time." 


Before  that  luncheon  was  ordered  and  eaten, 
Elaine  had  accomplished  much  toward  break- 
ing in  her  novice.  Spasmodically  he  seemed  to 
recall  something  and  retire  to  a  grave  distance 
and  the  girl  knew  that  it  was  Mabel's  memory 
which  had  intruded  between  them. 

She  liked  Victor  better  and  better  as  the  day 
went  on,  and  none  the  less  for  his  sensitiveness 
to  attack  upon  his  sister.  Elaine  had  set  the 
seal  of  approval  on  her  stepmother,  taking  her 
altogether,  and  during  the  latter  half  of  the  day 
Victor  took  an  active  part  in  assisting  her  in 
her  errands,  thereby  making  up  for  his  sister's 
failure. 

Elaine  wished  not  only  to  reward  him,  but 
also  to  gain  more  of  his  approval  for  herself; 
so  when  the  last  errand  for  the  present  had  been 
finished,  she  invited  him  to  go  home  with  her 
to  dinner. 

"Is  the  car  coming  for  you?"  he  asked. 

"No,  Mamabel  and  I  are  dividing  it  to-day," 
she  returned  sweetly.  "Of  course,  in  the  fall 

291 


The  Right  Track 


one  of  us  will  have  an  electric ;  but  for  the  pres- 
ent we'll  arrange  together." 

Victor,  listening  gravely,  nodded;  then  he 
escorted  the  girl  home  to  eat  the  dinner  his 
sister  had  ordered. 


CHAPTER  XIX 

A  CRUSADER 

AT  the  dinner  table  Elaine  made  good  stories 
of  some  incidents  of  the  day,  although  she  omit- 
ted the  matrimonial  suppositions  of  the  sales- 
men. 

Mabel  fought  with  a  jealousy  which  she  felt 
to  be  shameful  as  she  saw  the  brightness  and 
interest  in  her  husband's  face  while  he  listened 
to  the  girl's  gay  chatter,  and  she  tried  to  be  glad 
that  Elaine  amused  Victor  also,  and  that  an 
atmosphere  of  good  feeling  reigned  in  the  som- 
ber, lonely  old  dining-room.  It  occurred  to  her 
that  to  win  Elaine  would  be  perhaps  to  find  an 
avenue  back  to  her  husband's  heart. 

The  following  morning,  after  her  father  had 
gone  to  business,  Elaine  sat  down  at  the  piano 
and  began  to  play.  Mabel,  who  had  been 
prompt  at  breakfast,  seated  herself  to  listen. 

"Oh,  horrible!"  exclaimed  the  girl  after 
striking  a  few  chords.  She  rose  from  the  piano. 
"I  must  send  for  the  tuner,"  she  added. 

"That  was  very  careless  of  me,"  declared 
Mabel.  "The  piano  has  scarcely  been  opened 

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The  Right  Track 


since  you  left.  It's  a  wonder  I  did  n't  think  of 
it,  for  I  have  never  forgotten  your  delightful 
playing." 

"Oh,  indeed?"  returned  Elaine.  "I'm  glad 
you  liked  it." 

"Have  you  continued  to  study?"  asked 
Mabel.  "I  hope  so." 

"Yes,  I  have,"  replied  the  girl,  rearranging 
some  roses  which  had  come  to  her  last  night 
from  Ben  Walmsley.  It  was  the  first  time  she 
and  her  stepmother  had  ever  been  alone  to- 
gether. 

"There  can  be  such  a  thing  as  too  much  study, 
I  have  found  since  I  saw  you  last,  Elaine.  I  have 
made  that  mistake." 

The  girl  cast  a  glance  at  the  speaker  where 
she  sat  near  by  in  a  new,  pretty  negligee  gown; 
but  Elaine  kept  silence.  Bitterness  of  soul  was 
bad  for  the  complexion,  and  to  express  it  was 
bourgeois  in  the  extreme.  She  therefore  let 
her  silence  speak.  Victor's  sister  should  have 
nothing  worse  than  that  to  tell  him.  Possibly 
experience  had  not  taught  the  girl  that  silence 
is  the  most  crushing  of  replies.  Mabel  colored. 
She  wondered  how  much  James  Barnes  had 
told  his  daughter.  If  Elaine  knew  the  truth, 
knew  that  her  stepmother  was  no  more  than  a 

294 


A  Crusader 


foreign  body  in  the  family  circle,  she  had  be- 
haved very  well. 

"I  have  only  lately  come  to  a  realizing  sense 
of  this,"  went  on  Mabel.  "You  can  see  that  by 
the  looks  of  this  room  and  the  house  in  general." 

Elaine  flashed  her  another  quick  glance,  this 
time  of  surprise  at  her  frankness. 

"It  does  look  rather  like  bachelors'  hall, 
does  n't  it?"  she  returned. 

"Yes,  I'm  going  to  do  it  over,"  said  Mabel; 
"but  I  thought  we  were  likely  to  be  away  so 
much  for  the  next  three  months  that  it  was 
scarcely  worth  while  as  yet." 

"Have  you  studied  that  sort  of  thing?" 
asked  Elaine. 

Mabel  thought  a  note  of  superiority  was 
trying  to  break  through  the  veneer  of  cour- 
tesy. 

"I  have  had  many  opportunities  to  observe 
this  winter,"  she  returned  quietly,  "and  you 
have,  too.  You  will  help  me." 

"Yes.  I  was  expecting  to  do  the  house  over 
myself." 

Mabel  could  hear  the  repressed  belligerence. 

"You  are  doing  the  farmhouse,"  she  sug- 
gested pleasantly. 

"Which  you  should  have  done,  I  imagine," 
295 


The  Right  Track 


returned  the  girl  in  as  nearly  the  tone  of  a  re- 
tort as  can  be  permitted  to  a  "mold  of  form." 

"  I  lost  that  opportunity,"  said  Mabel  quietly. 
"I  hope  you  will  not  object  to  my  putting  on 
some  finishing  touches." 

"Of  what  sort?  We  want  it  very  simple." 

"Just  some  books  and  pictures  that  I  think 
would  be  good  in  the  nursery.  I  believe  Junior 
is  to  be  the  central  figure  at  the  farm,  although 
we  don't  tell  him  so." 

"It's  time  he  was  the  central  figure  some- 
where, is  n't  it?"  returned  Elaine,  patting  the 
roses  as  she  delivered  the  scratch. 

The  dark  eyes  in  the  armchair  met  the  half- 
insolent,  half-uneasy  glance. 

"Yes,  I  need  to  be  forgiven  for  a  good  many- 
things,"  answered  Mabel  slowly. 

Even  Elaine  saw  at  last  that  her  stepmother 
was  unhappy.  The  girl  felt  still  greater  surprise, 
and  stood  for  a  moment  irresolute. 

Whatever  Mamabel  was  getting  in  the  way  of 
retribution  she  richly  deserved  for  having  dared 
to  marry  Daddy;  but  there  was  the  family  har- 
mony to  be  considered,  and  one  must  always 
remember  the  vulgarity  of  friction.  Moreover, 
if  she  were  not  friendly  with  his  sister,  it  would 
prejudice  Victor  Ford  against  her. 

296 


A  Crusader 


She  had  left  school  with  the  intention  of 
marrying  soon  for  the  very  reason  that  she  had 
a  stepmother;  and  while  Victor  Ford  was  no 
parti,  he  was  worthy  to  be  included  in  the  court 
from  which  she  was  going  to  select. 

James  Barnes  for  the  next  few  days  had  no 
further  desire  to  dine  at  his  club.  He  had  a  fam- 
ily. A  bright  young  creature  chatted  through 
the  meal  hour.  A  happy  little  son  came  in  to  sit 
beside  him  at  dessert. 

The  young  woman  at  the  head  of  his  table 
made  great  effort  to  behave  as  if  content,  and 
join  when  she  could  in  the  conversation;  but 
the  situation  did  not  grow  easier  for  Mabel  in 
those  first  few  days  after  Elaine's  home-coming. 
She  seemed  always  discovering  something  fur- 
ther that  she  had  missed  —  had  thrown  away. 
Her  husband  was  so  happy  in  his  children.  She 
saw  the  contrast  now  to  those  dinner  hours  of 
the  winter,  when  they  had  both  been  growing 
more  and  more  distrait. 

One  evening  Victor  Ford  came  in  to  dinner 
and  announced  that  the  papering  was  done  at 
the  farm,  and  that  Lucretia  was  wandering 
from  room  to  room  in  speechless  admiration. 

"All  ready  for  your  carload  of  furniture, 
Miss  Elaine,"  he  finished. 

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The  Right  Track 


"You'll  be  out  there  to  receive  it,  won't 
you?"  asked  her  father,  turning  to  her. 

Elaine  gave  Victor  her  most  mirthful,  mis- 
chievous, provocative  glance. 

"Is  Lucretia  a  perfectly  good  chaperon?" 
she  asked  demurely;  "or  do  you  think,  after  all 
we've  been  through,  that  we  don't  need  any?" 

"Let  me  go  with  you,  Elaine,"  said  Mabel 
quickly. 

"Don't  think  of  it,  my  dear,"  put  in  her  hus- 
band. "You'd  have  to  break  a  lot  of  engage- 
ments. Do  you  think  I  want  Mrs.  Walmsley 
ei  al.  swooping  revengefully  down  on  me?" 

"Those  meetings  are  suspended  until  Octo- 
ber," returned  Mabel  quietly,  "and  I  have 
given  in  my  resignation  as  secretary." 

"It  won't  be  necessary  for  you  to  go,"  said 
James  Barnes,  "for  I'll  let  Camilla  take  Junior 
right  out  there;  as  well  now  as  any  time,  and 
she'll  be  a  lot  of  help  to  you,  Elaine.  Junior  has 
been  straining  at  the  leash  for  the  last  week." 

Victor  looked  questioningly  at  his  sister. 

"I  think  Mabel  has  caught  the  infection," 
he  remarked.  "I  think  she  would  like  a  finger 
in  the  pie." 

There  was  a  scarcely  noticeable  silence,  which 
Mabel  broke. 

298 


A  Crusader 


"I'm  having  a  little  finger  in  it,"  she  said, 
the  color  flowing  up  into  her  pale  cheeks,  the  only 
sign  of  her  emotion.  "  I  have  been  buying  some 
books  for  the  nursery  with  the  Rackham  and 
Dulac  illustrations." 

"Rack  'em!  I  don't  like  the  sound  of  that 
very  well,"  remarked  James  Barnes  whimsi- 
cally. "Reminds  me  somehow  of  Mam'selle." 

"You  '11  like  the  looks  of  it,  though,"  returned 
Mabel  quietly.  "Then  I  have  some  Maxfield 
Parrish  pictures." 

Elaine  regarded  her  with  some  approval.  She 
did,  then,  know  some  good  things. 

"Come  out  to  Brierly  and  put  them  in  your- 
self, why  don't  you?"  returned  Victor. 

"Oh,  I  know  that  too  many  cooks  spoil  the 
broth,"  rejoined  Mabel.  "I'll  go  when  James 
invites  me." 

"Invites  you,  my  dear?"  returned  her  hus- 
band. "Is  n't  the  half  of  my  kingdom  yours  to 
go  and  come  in  as  you  please?"  His  pleasant 
manner  was  the  same  as  of  old. 

Victor,  watching  and  listening,  knew  by  his 
sister's  face  that  it  was  an  empty  shell. 

"Besides,"  said  Mabel,  "I  am  going  to  have 
such  a  big  pie  of  my  own  here  in  the  fall.  I  'm 
going  to  make  this  house  charming." 

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The  Right  Track 


"I  can't  wait  till  the  fall,"  declared  Elaine  de- 
cidedly. "It  must  be  ready  by  autumn.  Be- 
sides," she  went  on,  "why  need  we  stay  in  this 
old  house,  Daddy?  Why  not  take  one  of  the 
stunning  new  apartments?" 

James  Barnes  lifted  his  eyebrows. 

"I'm  a  passenger,"  he  answered.  "Fix  it  up 
with  Mamabel." 

"I  should  prefer  to  stay  here,"  said  Mabel. 

Elaine  regarded  her  in  surprise. 

"Then  it  is  because  you  don't  know  how 
charming  the  apartments  are." 

"I  should  n't  care  how  charming  they  are.  I 
want  to  stay  here  another  year." 

Her  husband  looked  at  her  in  an  uncompre- 
hending way,  evidently  surprised  by  her  de- 
cisive tone. 

"Just  the  very  year  that  it  makes  a  difference 
to  me,"  exclaimed  Elaine,  her  color  deepening. 

"Mamabel  is  the  court  of  last  appeal,"  said 
James  Barnes,  returning  to  his  dinner. 

"Then  I  should  at  least  have  the  say  as  to 
how  the  house  shall  be  done  over,"  protested 
Elaine.  "It  makes  much  more  difference  to  me 
with  the  entertaining  I  shall  have  to  do  than  it 
does  to  Mamabel." 

"But  this  is  my  house,  Elaine,"  declared 
300 


A  Crusader 


Mabel  with  a  calm  dignity  which  made  her  hus- 
band again  look  up  at  her.  "You  will  have 
yours  some  day,  and  it  will  be  done  to  suit 
you." 

"Oh,  very  well!"  returned  Elaine  with  an 
excited  shrug.  This  decision  in  one  ordinarily 
so  passive  was  most  unexpected.  Glancing  up, 
she  found  Victor  looking  at  her  gravely  and 
with  an  expression  which  dreaded  her  response. 
"Very  well,"  she  repeated,  "perhaps  Daddy  will 
have  something  to  say  about  that." 

"There's  only  one  thing  to  say,  Elaine,"  re- 
plied her  father  pleasantly.  "While  Mabel 
likes  to  stay  in  this  house,  it  is  her  undoubted 
right  to  have  it  as  she  chooses." 

His  wife  grew  so  deadly  pale  that  Victor 
started  to  push  his  chair  back  from  the  table, 
but  a  beseeching  glance  from  his  sister's  dark 
eyes  restrained  him. 

She  wiped  her  trembling  lips  with  her  napkin, 
and  her  brother  admired  intensely  the  manner 
in  which  she  summoned  her  self-control. 

"I  promise  you,  Elaine,"  she  said,  "that  in 
whatever  sort  of  function  you  choose  to  be  pre- 
sented socially  to  your  own  and  your  father's 
friends,  you  shall  have  nothing  to  complain  of." 

"Thank  you ;  there  is  always  Florio's," 
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The  Right  Track 


retorted  Elaine  quickly;  and  a  moment  after- 
ward, catching  Victor  Ford's  eyes,  she  wished 
she  could  recall  the  words. 

Left  alone  with  her  brother  later  in  the 
evening,  Mabel  flung  her  arms  around  his  neck 
and  he  held  her  in  a  close  embrace. 

"You  see,"  she  said  in  a  stifled  tone,  "he 
thinks  we  shall  part;  but  we  shall  not  part.  I 
love  him.  I  can't  believe  it's  all  dead.  I'm 
clearing  away  the  ashes.  Every  day  I'm  clear- 
ing them  away.  He  can't  believe  in  me,  but 
there  must  be  a  little  spark  left.  Words  are 
cheap,  and  they  could  never  convince  him;  but 
actions  may  fan  that  spark.  I'm  not  allowing 
myself  to  believe  anything  else.  I  'm  working 
and  praying.  Every  day  I'm  working  and 
praying!" 

"  Dear  little  sister ! "  responded  Victor,  amazed 
and  touched. 

"And  don't  be  angry  with  Elaine." 

"I  am.  She  isn't  worthy  to  be  Barnes's 
daughter.  She,  with  her  all-conquering  man- 
ner and  her  egotism!" 

"Wasn't  I  just  as  hard,  just  as  selfish?" 
exclaimed  Mabel.  "Poor  Elaine!  She  has  n't 
had  her  blows  yet,  but  they'll  come,  they'll 


come." 


302 


A  Crusader 


"  She  needs  them  badly.  I  'm  glad  the  veneer 
cracked  enough  for  me  to  get  an  inside  view. 
I  never  saw  a  girl  who  attracted  me  so  much  as 
she  does ;  and  she  tries  to  attract  me.  She  wants 
me  at  her  chariot  wheels,  obscure  as  I  am;  then 
in  the  fullness  of  time  she'd  cut  the  chain  and 
throw  me  aside." 

"She  is  a  really  fascinating  girl,"  returned 
Mabel.  "I'm  glad  your  eyes  are  open,  but 
don't  feel  resentful  toward  her.  We  can't  afford 
that  boomerang.  You've  read  that  book, 
have  n't  you  —  'The  Greatest  Thing  in  the 
World'?  It's  true,  true  from  cover  to  cover. 
Love  is  stronger  than  dynamite,  —  that  love 
with  the  large  'L'  that  we  must  learn  to  feel 
for  everybody  - 

"Why,  Mabel,  what's  come  over  you?"  ex- 
claimed her  brother,  still  holding  her  close  as 
she  clung  to  him. 

"Camilla  has  taught  me  so  many  things." 

"  Camilla ! "  Victor's  tone  expressed  the  acme 
of  surprise. 

"Yes;  she  knows  the  truest  philosophy  I  ever 
listened  to.  The  waters  would  close  over  my 
head  if  it  were  not  for  Camilla.  I've  entered 
on  a  crusade,  Victor.  Sometime  I'll  tell  you 
what  my  armor  is ;  but  now  we  must  go  down- 

3°3 


The  Right  Track 


stairs ;  we  must  n't  let  James  and  Elaine  think 
we  are  offended." 

"Barnes  stood  by  you  all  right,"  said  Victor. 

Mabel  drew  back  and  looked  for  an  instant 
into  his  eyes  to  see  if  really  he  had  been  satis- 
fied. 

"James  is  a  truly  fine  gentleman,"  she  an- 
swered. "Remember,  no  hint  of  offense  in  your 
manner  to  Elaine." 

"By  Jove,  you  stood  pat.  You're  a  crusader 
all  right.  I  should  think,  though,  you  'd  welcome 
the  change  to  an  apartment  from  this  back 
number  of  a  house." 

"  I  can't  explain,  Victor;  but  it's  just  because 
it  is  a  back  number.  When  all  the  back  num- 
bers have  been  opened  and  read  and  we  know 
the  story  ends  right,  then  I  'm  willing  to  move." 

Victor  looked  down  with  affectionate  non- 
comprehension  into  the  dark  eyes  appealing 
to  his. 

"Is  there  any  key  to  a  woman,  I  wonder?" 
he  said. 

"Yes,  here,"  she  answered,  and  touched  her 
heart. 


CHAPTER  XX 

THE   HOUSE-WARMING 

A  WEEK  later  the  old  farmhouse  was  fur- 
nished and  finished,  and  Elaine  and  Victor  wan- 
dered through  it  well  satisfied,  considering  it 
the  work  of  their  hands.  Through  all  the  mov- 
ing and  settling  Victor  had  maintained  an  im- 
personal manner  toward  his  charming  assist- 
ant, and  Elaine  knew  that  at  that  unfortunate 
dinner  she  had  slipped  back  and  down  in  his 
estimation.  She  liked  him  for  his  loyalty  to  his 
sister  and  she  felt  a  reluctant  respect  and  ad- 
miration for  the  manner  with  which  her  step- 
mother had  defended  her  rights. 

With  the  passing  of  the  days  the  girl  came  to 
see  that  her  father  was  no  longer  his  wife's 
lover;  and  sometimes  she  felt  even  a  sort  of 
compassion  for  the  dignified,  quiet  young  wo- 
man who  attended  to  her  duties  so  efficiently. 
James  Barnes,  too,  felt  compassion  for  her.  All 
the  satisfaction  with  herself  and  the  world  that 
had  marked  Mabel's  manner  through  the  win- 
ter had  gone,  and  her  husband  reproached  him- 
self for  having  deprived  her  of  the  zest  of  life. 

305 


The  Right  Track 


"First  I  married  the  poor  child,"  he  thought, 
"although  she  warned  me;  then  when  her  life 
was  full  and  happy,  I  broke  up  her  paradise. 
If  I  had  dreamed  she  was  possessed  of  such 
a  latent  conscience,  I  should  have  held  my 
tongue." 

When  all  was  ready  at  the  farm  they  had  a 
dinner  in  celebration.  Bessie  was  delighted  to 
go  to  the  country,  so  she  was  there  to  serve, 
and  in  acknowledgment  of  Elaine's  labors, 
Mabel  insisted  that  she  sit  at  the  head  of  the 
table.  Camilla  and  Junior  had  been  at  home 
at  the  farm  for  a  week.  The  child  was  ra- 
diantly happy  in  the  possession  of  a  pony  and 
a  collie  dog;  and  at  his  first  visit  to  his  charming 
nursery,  what  was  his  delight  to  find  the  fairy 
Popinjay  already  installed! 

He  neglected  her  shamefully,  however,  after 
a  short  morning  visit,  on  all  the  days  when  she 
did  n't  have  to  stay  in  the  sun  and  keep  dry; 
for  Pete  was  teaching  him  to  ride  the  pony,  and 
Angus,  the  collie,  was  always  eager  for  a  scam- 
per with  him. 

"I  hope  Popinjay  won't  get  so  lonely  that 
she'll  go  back  to  the  city,"  he  said  seriously  to 
Camilla. 

"Oh,  I  think  that  will  be  all  right,"  answered 
306 


The  House -Warming 


Camilla.  "She's  a  contented  little  thing.  You 
know  she  has  such  a  sunshiny  nature!" 

Camilla  pointed  her  humor  by  one  of  the  sig- 
nificant, smiling  glances  that  the  little  boy  liked, 
and  he  laughed  and  thought  it  a  very  good  joke, 
indeed. 

"I'll  tell  you  what  would  be  nice,  though," 
said  Camilla,  "and  that  is  to  name  your  pony 
for  her.  How  would  that  do  ?  I  think  she 'd  be 
pleased.  Pony  Popinjay!" 

"Yes,  yes,  yes,"  cried  Junior,  hopping  up 
and  down.  "Popinjay!" 

"And  when  you're  in  a  hurry,  you  can  just 
say  Top,'"  added  Camilla. 

This  delightful  plan  Junior  laid  before  his 
father  and  Mamabel  in  the  automobile  coming 
up  from  the  station  to  the  house-warming  din- 
ner, and  as  James  Barnes  gazed  at  the  earnest 
little  face  with  the  sparkling  eyes  and  gleeful 
smile  his  heart  warmed  to  Camilla. 

Mabel  felt  instinctively  what  was  passing  in 
his  mind. 

"How  much  we  owe  to  Camilla,"  she  said. 

Barnes  turned  to  her  sedate  face.  "You 
realize  that,  too,"  he  returned;  and  his  wife's 
heart  gave  a  little  leap  at  his  kindly  tone.  He 
seemed  really  to  see  her. 

307 


The  Right  Track 


"The  child  is  transformed,"  she  said  quietly. 
"I  was  thinking  that  at  the  farm  we  should 
persuade  Camilla  to  take  her  meals  with  the 
family." 

"Good  idea,"  returned  James  Barnes,  nod- 
ding. "You  fix  it  up,  Mabel.  Of  course  she 
should  be  with  us  at  this  first  dinner-party. 
I've  invited  the  Shanklins." 

Charity  Shanklin  had  had  plenty  of  exercise 
the  past  week,  for  the  wonders  being  worked 
at  Elm  Farm  drew  her  irresistibly.  She  found 
it  impossible  to  keep  away;  and  on  the  preced- 
ing day  Lucretia,  whose  excitement  on  her  own 
account  had  been  almost  prostrating,  had  con- 
voyed her  through  the  completed  rooms,  both 
of  them  in  a  state  bordering  on  hysteria. 

"I  never  did,"  Charity  kept  saying;  "no,  I 
never  did.  If  only  poor  Lucy  was  here  to  enjoy 
this."  She  took  her  handkerchief  out  of  her 
reticule  and  pressed  her  eyes.  "It's  always  the 
second  wife,  ain't  it!" 

"Well,  she  ain't  a  bit  set  up  by  it.  You  '11  see 
to-morrow  night.  You're  goin'  to  be  awful 
surprised  in  Mis'  Barnes,  Cherry." 

"Well,  I  hope  so,"  returned  Charity  as  one 
without  hope. 

"I  s'pose  you  would  n't  look  out  there,"  re- 
308 


The  House -Warming 


marked  Lucretia  with  a  sort  of  desperate  ad- 
miration, pausing  by  a  window  and  pointing  to 
the  gleam  of  a  new  wooden  roof  among  the 
trees  bordering  the  pond.  "The  new  boat  came 
yesterday.  Just  as  clever  as  the  automobile. 
Scuds  around  the  water  without  an  oar  or  a  sail 
or  a  thing  to  make  it  go.  Mr.  Ford  says  Mr. 
Barnes  won't  have  a  rowboat  till  Junior 's  older, 
for  fear  he'll  drown  himself.  He  don't  care  a 
thing  about  that  boy  —  oh,  no!" 

"  I  saw  little  Jim  on  the  pony  with  Pete  as  I 
came  along,"  returned  Charity,  still  inclined 
to  be  lachrymose,  "  and  Camilla  settin'  under  a 
tree  with  a  book.  Says  I,  'Get  up,  Camilla; 
you'll  catch  your  death.'  Says  she,  'Come  and 
catch  it  with  me,  it's  lots  o'  fun';  but  I  would  n't 
stop.  'T  ain't  only  that  even  in  June  the 
ground 's  damp  under  those  spreadin'  trees,  but 
I  met  Ellen  and  Mr.  Ford  out  the  end  of  the 
avenue,  so  I  knew  there 'd  be  nobody  here  and 
a  good  chance  to  see  all  the  rooms.  I  must  say 
Ellen  looked  awful  pretty.  She 's  got  some  heft 
to  her  the  last  year,  and  she  was  as  sweet  as  a 
basket  o'  chips  to  me.  I  s'pose  the  next  thing 
she'll  be  marryin'  that  young  Ford." 

"Well,"  returned  Lucretia,  as  one  who  has 
mental  reservations,"  if  he  marries  her,  she  will."' 

309 


The  Right  Track 


"Don't  he  like  her?"  asked  Charity,  her 
little  eyes  twinkling  hungrily. 

"I  can't  quite  make  out,"  returned  Lucretia. 
"They  were  out  on  the  pond  last  night  in  that 
scuddin'  boat;  and  there  was  a  pretty  good 
moon,  everything  looked  real  sightly,  and  I 
thought  mebbe  they  'd  —  well,  you  know  it  did 
seem  natural.  She  was  bareheaded  and  dressed 
in  white,  real  pretty." 

"Gracious !  In  the  dew!"  exclaimed  Charity. 
"  She  had  a  good,  wide  hat  on  with  a  pink  rose 
to-day." 

"Oh,  yes,  indeed,"  replied  Lucretia;  "and  she 
gives  him  looks  under  that  brim  —  don't  you 
forget  it.  I've  seen  her;  but  he  keeps  on  as 
steady  as  a  church."  The  speaker  paused  and 
sniffed.  "I  s'pose  she'll  get  him  some  day; 
but  she  did  n't  last  night.  I  could  tell  that 
at  breakfast.  Now  come  and  see  Junior's  room 
and  see  if  I  have  n't  saved  the  best  till  the 
last." 

Lucretia  led  the  way  to  the  charming  nursery 
with  windows  toward  the  rising  sun.  Every 
article  in  it  had  been  selected  for  the  child's 
comfort  and  happiness.  The  books  and  pic- 
tures of  Mabel's  choosing  were  in  their  places, 
and  Lucretia  walked  across  the  room  and  laid 

310 


The  House -Warming 


her  hand  on  a  shining  cabinet.  "There 's  a  whole 
band  in  here,"  she  said  impressively. 

"Yesterday  was  rainy  in  the  morning  and 
I  heard  a  band  playin'.  I  tipped  over  a  pan  o* 
milk  hurryin'  to  the  back  step  to  see  what  on 
earth  a  band  was  goin'  up  the  street  for  before 
the  Fourth  o'  July.  It  turned  out  that  Junior's 
ma  had  sent  him  one  o'  these  music-playin' 
machines.  You  can't  think  of  a  thing  that  child 
has  n't  got.  If  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Metcalf  could  walk 
into  this  house,  they'd  think  they  was  dreamin'." 

"They'd  think  that  before  they  got  in.  It's 
just  like  a  picture  outdoors,"  rejoined  Charity. 
"I'm  glad  my  brother '11  be  here  to-morrow 
night  to  see  it." 

"It'll  bring  money  into  the  church,  too," 
said  Lucretia,  hushing  her  voice  and  nodding 
knowingly.  "It's  goin'  to  make  things  easier 
for  Mr.  Shanklin.  You  see  if  it  don't.  Mr. 
Barnes  has  got  a  money  fountain  somewhere, 
I  believe,  the  way  he  just  pours  it  out.  Not  a 
bit  foolish,  either.  Every  dollar  he  spends  counts, 
but  it  takes  a  mint  to  put  a  place  like  this  in 
order." 

"Of  course  it  does;  and  all  the  help  he  has  to 
pay,  too.  You  have  n't  ever  told  me  what  he 
pays  you  and  Pete,  Lucretia." 

311 


The  Right  Track 


"No,  and  I  ain't  going  to,  Cherry,  'cause  then 
when  folks  ask  you,  you  can  say  you  don't 
know." 

Lucretia's  matter-of-fact,  pleasant  manner 
deprived  her  words  of  offense.  "Did  you  notice 
that  piano  downstairs  in  the  settin'-room  ? 
Brand  new;  that's  for  Elaine;  she  plays  like 
her  fingers  had  quicksilver  in  'em;  and  she  can 
dance  as  light  as  these  dandelion  blows.  I 
watched  her  through  the  crack  o'  the  dinin'- 
room  door  the  other  night.  Camilla  and  Junior 
was  there  and  she  pretended  to  be  dancin'  for 
Junior ;  but  Mr.  Ford  was  there  readin'  the  paper. 
I  '11  bet  he  looked  over  the  top  of  it  a  few  times. 
'Young  man,'  says  I  to  myself,  'did  you  ever 
read  about  the  daughter  of  Herodias?'  think 
says  I.  'That  girl  don't  want  your  head  on  a 
charger,  but  she  wants  you  to  lose  it,  just  the 
same.'"  Lucretia  winked  and  nodded  vigor- 
ously. 

"Hussy!"  exclaimed  Miss  Shanklin,  with 
keen  appreciation.  "Oh,  well,  she'd  be  a  good 
catch,  I  suppose,  —  if  he  can  stand  her,"  she 
added  reasonably. 

"Don't  know  what  you  mean  by  that.  She's 
sweet-lookin'  and  sweet-spoken,"  returned  Lu- 
cretia, "and  she's  got  faculty,  the  same  as  he 

312 


The  House -Warming 


has.  They're  both  the  kind  that  can  make  old 
shears  cut.  She  bossed  those  furniture  movers 
around  just  as  good  as  he  could.  She  knows 
what  she  wants." 

"Yes,"  returned  Charity  tartly,  "and  when 
you're  nineteen  and  pretty  you  can  get  it  as 
a  usual  thing." 

But  the  next  evening  when  the  automobile 
stopped  before  the  parsonage,  and  the  minis- 
ter and  his  sister  stepped  within,  Charity  had 
laid  aside  every  sentiment  which  belied  her 
name.  Her  brother's  face  seemed  to  smooth  out 
as  they  fled  in  cushioned  luxury  through  the 
familiar  streets.  , 

Pete  Miller  endeavored  to  throw  an  occa- 
sional social  remark  over  his  shoulder  at  the 
pair  in  the  tonneau,  but  Charity  discouraged 
this. 

"Never  mind  us,  Pete,"  she  said.  "Just  keep 
your  eyes  on  the  road.  We  might  run  over  a 
hen." 

Pete  grinned  complacently.  Life  had  be- 
come orie  round  of  pleasure.  He  had  conquered 
this  mettlesome  steed,  and  was  now  learning  to 
run  the  motor-boat. 

Mr.  Shanklin's  patient  heart  shared  mildly 
in  Pete's  exultation.  They  turned  in  at  the 

313 


The  Right  Track 


elm  avenue,  and  prosperity  began  to  fill  the  air 
they  breathed.  The  neglected,  down-at-heel 
place  had  taken  on  the  air  of  a  finished  country 
residence,  and  when  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Barnes  came 
out  on  the  piazza  to  greet  the  guests,  and  the 
minister  felt  the  cordial  hand-clasp  of  the  pro- 
prietor, he  began  to  see  visions  of  paint  and  a 
new  carpet  at  the  church. 

As  Charity  Shanklin  received  Mabel's  quiet 
greeting,  she  regarded  her  with  lively  curiosity. 
The  young  hostess  was  dressed  in  white,  and 
pansies  which  Junior  had  picked  and  presented 
to  her  were  tucked  in  the  open  neck  of  her 
gown.  There  was  a  kindness  and  a  natural 
dignity  in  her  manner  which  disarmed  Miss 
Shanklin,  who  felt  some  confusion  in  her  de- 
termination not  to  be  hoodwinked. 

The  old-fashioned  front  and  back  parlor  had 
been  transformed  into  a  modern  living-room, 
but  James  Barnes  had  resisted  all  temptation 
to  throw  out  bay  windows  or  additions  of  any 
kind. 

"You  know  this  is  just  as  new  to  me  as  it  is 
to  you,"  he  said  to  the  minister.  "This  little 
girl  of  mine  and  my  wife's  brother,  Victor,  have 
done  it  all  and  I  don't  see  how  it  could  be  im- 
proved, do  you?" 

3H 


The  House  -  Warming 


Mr.  Shanklin  did  not;  and  he  felt  the  same 
satisfaction  with  the  dinner.  With  Elaine  at 
the  head  of  the  table  and  her  father  at  the  foot, 
with  Camilla  and  Junior,  Victor  Ford  beside 
Charity,  and  the  gracious  young  wife  beside 
himself,  this  was  an  occasion  when  he  entirely 
forgot  to  question  the  digestibility  of  anything, 
but  after  he  had  asked  the  blessing,  accepted 
all  the  goods  which  Bessie  provided,  and  ate 
everything  set  before  him  with  a  relish. 

His  sister  watched  him  with  amazed  interest. 
"Law!  it'll  do  him  good,"  she  thought.  "I  al- 
ways did  say  more  folks  die  for  the  lack  o'  good 
things  than  from  eatin'  'em." 

After  dinner  the  party  went  out  on  the  pond 
in  the  smart  little  boat  with  its  polished  brass 
fittings. 

"You  remember  what  I  had  here  as  a  young- 
ster, Cherry?"  asked  Mr.  Barnes,  as  they 
started  out.  "Oh,  of  course  not.  No  lady  ought 
to  remember  back  thirty-five  years." 

"I  do  and  I  ain't  ashamed  of  it,"  returned 
Charity;  "and  I  remember,  too,  that  you  said 
I  was  like  a  cow  in  the  boat  and  you  would  n't 
take  me  with  you." 

James  Barnes's  laugh  was  heartier  than  his 
wife  had  ever  heard  it. 


The  Right  Track 


"No  excuse  either,"  he  returned,  "for  the 
boat  would  have  held  a  cow  all  right.  It  was 
made  out  of  a  piano-box,  Elaine." 

Mabel's  heart  felt  a  little  sting.  She  had  been 
such  an  attentive  hostess  and  expressed  all 
pleasure  in  every  arrangement.  If  only  he  would 
have  turned  to  her. 

Camilla  saw  her  catch  her  lip  under  her  teeth. 
She  knew.  She  had  been  watching,  and  helping 
both  silently  and  in  talks  with  the  young  wife, 
ever  since  the  latter  started  on  the  new  path  up 
from  the  valley  to  the  heights. 

"I  suppose  that  was  very  good  fun  for  a 
boy,"  returned  Elaine,  with  her  charming  man- 
ner; "but  I  must  say  I  prefer  this,  don't  you, 
Cousin  Cherry?" 

"Well,  seeing  I  was  n't  let  to  go  in  the  piano- 
box,  I  do,"  returned  Miss  Shanklin  crisply. 

"I  suppose  Elaine's  all  right,"  she  thought, 
"but  she's  a  little  too  palaver-y  for  me.  I  like 
some  vinegar  with  my  oil!" 

The  lovely  evening  light  slanted  from  the 
west  on  tree  and  ripple.  James  Barnes  surveyed 
the  scene  with  tranquil  enjoyment. 

"If  I  were  back  in  the  old  apartment," 
thought  Mabel,  "he  would  look  just  as  happy. 
I'm  only  ballast!" 

316 


The  House-Warming 


But  she  resolutely  put  aside  the  thought  with 
the  courage  of  her  new  philosophy. 

"Don't  exact.  Don't  try  to  dominate,"  Ca- 
milla had  said.  "Watch  your  thought.  Know 
where  you  live:  in  spirit  now  —  in  the  atmos- 
phere of  Truth  and  Love,  now;  know  where 
your  strength  is;  fear  nothing;  God  is  Love; 
Omnipotence  that  is  Love  enfolds  you;  you 
have  n't  to  fight;  you  have  only  to  know;  there 
is  n't  a  suggestion  of  evil  that  Truth  and  Love 
do  not  banish  if  you  know  how  to  open  your 
mind  to  them." 

All  these  rays  from  the  light  of  her  new  teach- 
ing beamed  upon  her  beating  heart;  and  her 
husband's  voice  went  on:  - 

"Pretty  good  little  lake  for  a  cranberry  bog," 
he  said,  with  an  affectionate  sense  of  possession. 
"I  want  to  skate  here  again  next  winter  and 
see  the  cranberries  once  more  through  the  ice." 

"You're  welcome  to,"  remarked  Charity 
dryly. 

"And  we'll  go  sleighing,  Cherry!"  he  added 
enthusiastically. 

"No,  we  won't,"  she  returned  with  convic- 
tion. "  I  can  sit  with  my  feet  in  a  pail  of  cold 
water  and  ring  a  dinner  bell  and  it'll  do  just  as 
well." 

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The  Right  Track 


"I'll  go  sleighing  with  you,  Daddy,"  said 
Junior,  cuddled  up  quietly  beside  Camilla,  "  and 
you'll  teach  me  how  to  skate,  too." 

"Indeed,  I  will.  We'll  start  on  our  skates  on 
the  snow  crust  at  the  top  of  the  hill  by  the 
orchard,  and  slide  faster  and  faster  downhill, 
across  the  road,  and  down  the  next  hill  like 
lightning  into  the  meadow;  then  when  we 
reach  the  brook,  jump  into  the  air  and  down 
on  the  other  side  and  slide  till  the  steam  gives 
out."  James  Barnes  stopped  and  laughed. 
"And  people  think  aeroplaning  is  exciting!  I 
wonder  what  my  old  bones  would  say  if  I  should 
try  that  stunt  now!" 

Victor  Ford,  who  was  running  the  boat, 
smiled  over  his  shoulder  at  the  big-eyed  small 
boy. 

"I  think  Junior  and  I  will  try  that  first  on  a 
bob  sled,"  he  remarked. 

"Where  do  I  come  in?"  asked  Elaine. 

Charity's  eagle  eyes  observed  her  as  she  put 
the  question,  a  saucy  challenge  to  the  man  at 
the  wheel. 

"Just  about  where  you  please,  I'll  bet,"  she 
reflected. 


CHAPTER  XXI 

THE   ONLY  SON 

AFTER  the  Shanklins  had  been  put  into  the 
automobile  and  started  for  home,  James 
Barnes  and  his  wife  lingered  on  the  piazza. 

Long  shadows  of  the  elm  branches  trailed 
across  the  terrace  in  the  moonlight,  wavering 
in  the  breeze  of  the  June  evening. 

"  It  seems  as  if  nothing  in  Old  England  could 
be  lovelier  than  this  outlook,"  said  Mabel, 
sinking  into  one  of  the  piazza  chairs,  hoping 
that  her  husband  would  be  seated:  in  these 
days  they  were  never  alone  together;  but  he 
continued  to  stand,  gazing  off  on  the  sweep  of 
hillside  and  meadow,  the  wooded  sky-line,  and 
the  pretty  stretch  of  water  sparkling  in  the 
moon-rays. 

"  I  believe  you  said  your  clubs  would  not  hold 
sessions  during  the  summer,"  he  remarked. 

"Yes;  and  if  they  did,  it  would  n't  matter  to 
me.  I  have  resigned  my  offices." 

Mr.  Barnes  did  not  comment  on  this. 

"Do  you  think  you  could  be  happy  to  stay 
on  here  awhile?" 

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The  Right  Track 


"Of  course,  if  you  can  stay." 
"I  shall  be  back  and  forth  all  summer." 
"Then  I  shall  come  back  and  forth,  too." 
"No;  it  will  soon  be  hot  in  town  and  you  will 
be  more  comfortable  here." 

"Thinking  of  you  in  the  heat,"  returned 
Mabel  quickly.  "Oh,  no." 

"My  dear,"  said  James  Barnes,  smiling,  not 
at  the  attractive  white  figure  leaning  back  in  the 
moonlight,  but  at  the  woods  across  the  brook, 
"  that  is  the  common  lot  of  husbands.  I  should  n't 
be  more  exacting  than  the  rest." 

"You  have  never  been  exacting  enough," 
returned  Mabel,  steadying  her  voice  as  best  she 
could  against  the  gentle,  inexorable  repulsion 
of  his  manner. 

He  hastened  to  get  away  from  personalities. 
"I  have  a  plan  I  should  like  to  carry  out  if  it 
won't  incommode  you:  to  let  Bessie  stay  here, 
give  Katie  a  rest,  close  the  house,  and  live  at 
the  club.  You  would  then  divide  your  time  be- 
tween Elm  Farm,  and  a  hotel  in  town,  or  some 
resort.  You  and  Elaine  will  probably  want  to 
dip  in  the  ocean  for  a  few  weeks." 

Mabel's  sore  heart  beat  fast.  The  burden  of 
being  dependent  on  a  person  who  had  no  use 
for  her  seemed  at  that  moment  too  crushing 

320 


The  Only  Son 


to  be  borne.  She  summoned  all  her  fortitude, 
all  her  philosophy.  Surely  the  punishment  was 
heavy! 

"I  must  be  at  home  by  the  last  of  August." 
She  managed  to  speak  quietly.  "  I  want  a  month 
to  get  the  house  in  shape  for  Elaine  to  enjoy 
when  the  season  begins." 

"Are  you  sure  you  would  n't  be  as  content  in 
a  more  modern  home  such  as  Elaine  wants? 
It  would  mean  much  less  trouble  for  you." 

"I'll  make  it  very  pretty  where  we  are,"  re- 
turned Mabel,  something  in  her  throat  threat- 
ening to  choke  the  words. 

"But  why  do  you  care  about  that  old 
dungeon?"  The  question  came  a  trifle  impa- 
tiently. 

"Because  I've  been  very  happy  there," 
answered  Mabel  quickly. 

He  glanced  around  at  her.  She  had  straight- 
ened up  in  her  chair,  her  somber  eyes  were  raised 
to  him.  Her  beauty  had  always  made  a  strong 
appeal  to  him;  and  she  had  never  looked  love- 
lier than  at  this  minute,  from  the  coronet  of 
her  hair  to  her  little  slippered  feet. 

He  looked  away  again  quickly.  Had  n't  te- 
nacity always  been  one  of  her  characteristics? 
How  could  he  know  that  she  was  longing  to 

321 


The  Right  Track 


pour  out  to  him  that  she  could  n't  leave  the  old 
home  until  he  had  gained  happy  associations 
with  it?  After  that,  she  should  care  nothing 
where  they  lived!  Any  place  from  a  tent  up 
would  do. 

"The  chances  are,"  he  returned,  looking  back 
on  the  landscape,  "that  you  would  be  hap- 
pier elsewhere,  —  and  make  Elaine  happy, 
too." 

Mabel  bit  her  lip,  and  a  sound  of  gay  laughter 
rippled  through  the  moonlight. 

Elaine  and  Victor  came  up  the  hill  from  the 
pond  where  they  had  remained  to  put  up  the 
boat. 

"He  says  he  is  my  uncle  and,  therefore,  I 
should  obey  him,"  announced  the  girl. 

"  I  have  to  have  some  pull  since  I  'm  a  farmer 
and  not  in  her  social  set,"  remarked  Victor. 
"By  the  way,  Jim,"  he  added,  "I  believe  that 
orchard  is  worth  working  over." 

It  had  been  an  easy  matter  with  the  present 
community  of  their  interests,  and  the  familiar 
name  for  his  brother-in-law  dinned  in  his  ears 
by  the  neighbors,  to  drop  all  formal  terms  in 
addressing  him. 

Elaine  seated  herself  on  the  piazza  step,  and 
Mabel,  after  listening  for  a  minute  to  her 

322 


The  Only  Son 


brother's  agricultural  suggestions,  rose  unno- 
ticed and  disappeared  within  the  house. 

She  went  upstairs  and  at  the  top  met  Camilla. 
She  paused  and  to  the  latter's  surprise  put  both 
arms  around  her,  and  the  little  woman  standing 
one  step  above  her,  Mabel  leaned  her  head 
against  the  comforting  shoulder. 

Camilla  wondered  whether  the  unprecedented 
demonstration  indicated  joy  or  grief;  but  as 
Mabel  lifted  her  head  again  and  the  soft  light 
of  the  hall  lamp  fell  on  her  pale  face  and  sad 
eyes,  her  doubt  was  at  an  end. 

"Let  us  go  into  your  room,"  said  Camilla, 
"and  do  a  little  reading." 

Mabel  followed  her  into  the  room  back  of  the 
nursery  which  she  had  insisted  should  be  hers, 
leaving  the  front  room  for  Elaine  as  hostess  at 
the  farm. 

There  they  read  of  the  perfect  love  thatcast- 
eth  out  fear  until  the  disquieted  soul  took  fresh 
courage  to  meet  her  problem. 

"'Let  your  heart,  therefore,  be  perfect  with 
the  Lord,'"  read  Camilla.  "That  is  all  our 
part,  dear  Mrs.  Barnes."  She  looked  up  from 
the  Bible  in  her  lap.  "We  have  n't  to  fight.  The 
battle  is  the  Lord's.  'Be  still,  and  know  that 
I  am  God.'  The  Bible  is  full  of  reminders  of 

323 


The  Right  Track 


what  our  part  is.  Not  inaction,  but  the  quiet 
of  active  trust  based  on  the  Love  revealed  to 
us." 

"I  don't  make  any  headway,"  said  Mabel. 
"I  can't  see  that  I  make  any  headway." 

"But  you  do,"  returned  Camilla  quickly, 
"because  not  one  of  us  can  stand  still.  We're 
progressing  either  up  or  down,  and  when  we 
take  the  right  track,  there 's  simply  no  question 
but  that  we're  on  the  way  to  happiness." 

She  smiled  at  her  companion  who  silently 
took  her  hand. 

"The  great  thing,"  went  on  Camilla  after  a 
pause,  "is  not  to  outline  in  what  our  happiness 
shall  consist." 

"Yes,"  returned  Mabel  with  a  grave  nod, 
"I  should  call  that  a  very  great  step." 

But  she  felt  calmer  and  strengthened  when 
Camilla  left  her,  and  she  sat  by  her  window  that 
looked  out  on  the  mound,  its  dark  cedars  black 
in  the  moonlight,  and  over  yonder  at  the  forest 
trees  bordering  the  pond. 

Later  Camilla  knocked  on  her  door  and  came 
in  again. 

"I've  been  thinking,  Mrs.  Barnes,"  she  said, 
"about  your  husband's  plan  that  you  told  me 
of,  and  I  believe  it's  a  good  one.  He  will  be 

324 


The  Only  Son 


likely  to  spend  more  time  out  here  if  the  house 
is  closed  than  if  you  were  there  and  preparation 
to  come  had  to  be  made  each  time;  and  this 
peaceful  place » will  be  good  for  you.  I  propose 
that  you  stay  right  here  now  and  let  me  go  in 
town  to-morrow  morning  and  make  arrange- 
ments with  Katie  and  do  the  few  things  that 
need  to  be  done,  and  pack  your  trunk  and  bring 


it  out.' 


"Whatever  you  say,"  returned  Mabel. 
"James  and  Elaine  both  want  to  move  in  the  fall 
and  I  am  opposing  them.  I  can't  leave  the  old 
house,  Camilla.  I  can't  leave  it  until  it  means 
something  different  to  us;  something  happier." 
The  speaker  covered  her  face  with  her  hands, 
and  tears  forced  their  way  through  her  fingers. 

Camilla  came  close  and  put  an  arm  round  the 
white  shoulders.  "Dear  Mrs.  Barnes,  the  fall 
is  a  long  way  off  and  God  is  very  near,  'nearer 
than  hands  and  feet,'  we  are  told;  and  another 
thing  we  are  told  is  to  'rejoice  always.'  It  is 
easy  to  rise  above  depression  if  we  persist  in 
letting  nothing  but  the  truth  reign  in  our 
thought.  You  are  on  the  highroad  to  happi- 
ness," she  added  slowly,  "just  as  surely  as  that 
we  are  in  this  room  together!" 

Mabel  threw  one  arm  around  the  standing 
3*5 


The  Right  Track 


figure,  and  kept  the  other  hand  over  her 
eyes. 

"  I  Ve  lately  had  an  awful  thought,  Camilla," 
she  said,  "and  you  can't  say  that  it  may  not 
be  true.  I've  thought  that  my  husband,  be- 
lieving our  marriage  to  be  a  mistake,  is  thinking 
about  —  about  dissolving  it.  He  is  leading  up 
to  talking  to  me  about  ways  and  means.  Some- 
times I  feel  the  conviction  and  it  —  it  suffo- 
cates me." 

Camilla  held  her  close.  "I  don't  believe 
that,"  she  returned ;  "  but  if  it  were  so,  you  may 
rest  assured  that  there  is  no  variableness  in  the 
rule  that  right  thinking  connects  you  con- 
sciously with  God,  and  only  right  action  can 
follow.  You  have  no  responsibility  beyond 
your  thought  at  the  present  minute." 

"But  I  love  him,  Camilla,  I  love  him!" 

"That's  right.  Love  him.  He's  your  hus- 
band. At  the  same  time,  there's  a  verse  of  a 
hymn  that  is  good  to  remember:  — 

"  'No  good  in  creatures  can  be  found 

But  may  be  found  in  Thee; 
I  shall  have  all  things  and  abound 
Since  God  is  God  to  me!' ' 

"Oh,  how  can  I  get  up  there!  How  could  I 
ever  be  so  impersonal?" 

326 


The  Only  Son 


"It's  the  way  to  happiness.  It  won't  make 
you  love  less,  but  more;  but  your  joy  then  won't 
be  at  the  mercy  of  a  mortal."  Camilla  patted 
the  clinging,  silent  figure. 

"Now,  I  will  go  in  with  Mr.  Barnes  to- 
morrow morning,"  she  went  on.  "Bessie  can 
stay  here.  Katie  will  help  me  do  everything 
that  is  necessary  and  she  can  pack  Bessie's 
trunk." 

"But  what  will  Junior  say?"  asked  Mabel. 

Camilla  smiled  out  at  the  darkening  land- 
scape. "  I  Ve  done  my  work  very  poorly  if  he 
does  n't  agree.  Do  you  dread  to  be  left  with 
the  care  of  him?  Bessie  will  be  here.  The  girl 
is  delighted  with  the  country  and  wants  to 
stay." 

"I  dread  nothing,"  returned  Mabel  quietly, 
"except—" 

"No  exceptions,"  interrupted  Camilla  cheer- 
fully, giving  the  sitting  figure  a  little  squeeze. 
"Nothing  to  dread.  Everything  to  hope. 
Good-night,  dear  Mrs.  Barnes.  Remember, 
'  Intelligence  directs,  Divine  Love  protects,  and 
Mind  is  unfolding  all  I  ought  to  know,  and  to 
have.'" 

The  June  morning  came  beautifully  into 
Junior's  nursery.  There  had  been  a  shower  in 

327 


The  Right  Track 


the  night  and  he  ran  to  the  window  to  see  the 
diamonds  sparkle  on  the  lawn.  He  called 
Camilla  to  see  the  morning  and  how  thick  and 
deep  looked  the  elm  avenue. 

"Do  we  ever  have  to  go  back  to  that  old 
city,  Camilla?"  he  asked,  gazing  out  on  what, 
plus  the  pony  and  the  dog,  was  certainly  a 
small  boy's  paradise. 

"Not  until  we  want  to,"  she  answered. 

"I  shan't  ever  want  to,"  he  declared  firmly. 

She  sat  down  by  the  window  in  her  kimono 
and  took  him  on  her  lap. 

"Do  you  know  that  Mamabel  is  going  to  shut 
up  the  house  in  town,  let  Katie  go  and  take  a 
rest,  and  Daddy  will  stay  here  part  of  the  time, 
and  part  of  the  time  live  at  his  club  ?  Won't  it 
be  fun  to  have  him  out  here  so  much?" 

"Yes,  yes,"  cried  Junior  in  high  approval. 

"They  decided  it  last  night;  so  we  thought 
it  would  be  a  good  plan  for  me  to  go  in  town 
this  morning  with  Daddy  "  —  Junior's  expres- 
sion began  to  change  —  "and  pack  up  all  the 
things,  because  we  don't  care  if  we  don't  see 
that  house  again  until  the  snow  begins  to  come 
down,  do  we?" 

"I'll  go  with  you  and  Daddy,  and  help  you 
pack." 

328 


The  Only  Son 


Camilla  looked  at  him  with  the  smiling,  com- 
pressed lips  and  roguish  eyes  that  he  loved. 
"And  leave  Popinjay  and  Angus?  What  an 
idea!  I  shall  come  back  day  after  to-mor- 


row." 


Junior  swallowed.  A  boy  who  owned  a  horse 
and  a  dog  and  whose  doll  had  been  given  to 
Camilla  could  not  be  a  baby;  but  some  of  the 
dew  sparkling  on  the  grass  was  trying  to  creep 
into  his  eyes. 

"Let  Sister  go  and  pack  up,"  he  said  after 
the  pause. 

"  She  does  n't  know  much  about  things  at  the 
house  after  being  away  such  a  long  time  does 
she?" 

"Let  Mamabel  go,"  said  Junior,  feeling  the 
net  close  around  him. 

"  I  wanted  to  talk  to  you  a  little  about  Mama- 
bel," returned  Camilla  confidentially.  "You're 
getting  to  be  a  big  boy  now,  big  enough  to  un- 
derstand some  grown-up  things,  and  you  are 
Mamabel's  son:  the  only  son  she  has;  and  sons 
always  take  care  of  their  mothers,  you  know. 
Have  you  noticed  how  quiet  Mamabel  is,  and 
how  gentle?  I  think  something  has  happened 
to  make  her  feel  sad." 

"No,"  explained  Junior  earnestly.  "I  told 
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The  Right  Track 


her  about  the  angel  that  night,  and  it  made 
her  kind." 

Camilla  nodded  and  smiled.  "Good.  You 
see  that  was  taking  care  of  her.  That  was  be- 
ing a  good  son.  She  has  worked  hard  all  winter 
and  she  has  only  white  roses  in  her  cheeks.  She 
wants  somebody  to  take  care  of  her  and  love 
her,  and  you  remember  how  busy  Daddy  al- 
ways is;  but  Mamabel's  only  son  has  time  to 
take  her  around  and  amuse  her  and  make  her 
happy,  and  show  her  what's  in  the  brook  and 
let  her  run  with  the  dog,  and  smooth  Popinjay's 
nose;  and  take  her  in  the  woods  and  show  her 
where  the  flowers  grow,  until  the  pink  roses 
come  back  in  her  cheeks  again.  Would  n't  that 
be  better  than  sending  her  off  to  the  dark  house 
to  pack?" 

Junior  looked  very  sober  and  his  eyes  were 
wide.  "Then  night  will  come,"  he  said,  at  last. 

"Yes,  and  you  will  invite  Mamabel  to  sleep 
in  my  bed,  and  you  '11  play  her  the  lovely  good- 
night tune,  'Guten  Abend,  Gute  Nacht,'  and 
in  the  morning  you  '11  bring  her  to  this  window 
and  show  her  all  the  beautifulness,  because 
not  any  sun  comes  into  her  window  till  dinner- 
time, you  know;  and  think  what  a  good  time 
you'll  give  her!" 

330 


The  Only  Son 


Camilla  had  washed  the  child  while  she 
talked,  and  now  she  began  to  dress  him.  He 
kept  a  doubtful  silence.  He  was  thinking  of 
Mamabel  and  how  gentle  her  hand  was  now 
when  she  touched  him;  and  how  she  kissed  him 
instead  of  throwing  kisses  from  her  fingers,  and 
how  she  listened  to  everything  he  had  to  tell 
her,  and  how  like  pleasant  flowers  she  smelled 
when  she  drew  him  close  to  her.  Considering 
the  marvelous  change  he  had  already  wrought 
in  her,  perhaps,  being  her  only  son,  he  might 
brace  up  to  continue  the  work.  But  when 
Camilla  put  on  her  tailored  suit  instead  of  the 
little  striped  cambric  dress,  he  had  to  swallow 
hard. 

After  Mrs.  Barnes  had  gone  upstairs  the 
night  before,  her  husband  had  told  Elaine  of  the 
plan  to  close  the  house  for  a  couple  of  months, 
and  the  girl  had  assented. 

"A  very  good  plan  for  Mabel,  I  should  think," 
remarked  Victor,  from  his  perch  on  the  piazza 
rail.  "She  does  n't  look  well  to  me." 

"  She  does  show  the  winter  strain,"  returned 
his  brother-in-law  pleasantly. 

Victor  looked  off  on  the  moon-flecked  sward 
and  back  at  Elaine  sitting  on  the  step,  the  star- 
light in  her  eyes.  It  seemed  to  him  he  never 

33i 


The  Right  Track 


looked  at  this  girl  without  a  conscious  endeavor 
to  harden  his  heart.  She  was  so  sweet,  so  win- 
ning without,  and,  he  told  himself,  so  calcu- 
lating, so  hard  within.  She  was  a  good  play- 
mate, a  good  fellow,  at  moments  when  he 
could  forget  his  sister's  white  face.  As  he  sat 
there  now,  James  Barnes's  courteously  indiffer- 
ent tone  ringing  in  his  ears,  he  considered  the 
strange  situation.  It  seemed  to  him  there  had 
never  been  a  time  since  last  September  when  he 
had  not  carried  a  sore  spot  in  his  heart  concern- 
ing his  sister.  If  she  had  caused  so  much  dis- 
turbance to  him,  what  ought  he  to  expect  from 
these  two  who  owed  her  nothing,  and  to  one 
of  whom  she  owed  so  much  ? 

James  Barnes  was  one  of  Nature's  noblemen; 
that  he  knew;  and  he  had  no  right  to  pry  into 
the  affairs  of  his  heart.  If  Barnes  had  ceased  to 
love  his  sister  by  her  own  faults  of  selfishness 
and  indifference,  love  cannot  be  forced.  Victor 
felt  that  his  brother-in-law  would  be  as  direct 
and  honest  in  lovelessness  as  he  had  been  in  love, 
and  this,  of  course,  was  what  was  undermining 
Mabel's  health  and  happiness.  Many  a  couple 
falling  out  of  love  managed  to  jog  along,  keeping 
a  respectable  and  contented  front  to  the  world. 
Mabel  had  never  loved  her  husband.  Now  a 

33* 


The  Only  Son 


tardy  gratitude  probably  possessed  her,  and  as 
blessings  always  brighten  as  they  take  their 
flight,  she  felt  ready  to  move  heaven  and  earth 
to  reawaken  the  old  feeling  in  which  she  had 
basked  so  indifferently. 

Victor  had  little  faith  in  that  reawakening, 
and  he  believed  in  this  peaceful  country  spot, 
with  the  brooks,  the  breezes,  and  the  flowers, 
and  the  clean  bright  air,  his  sister  would  find 
her  poise  again,  for  she  had  never  been  a  loving 
person,  and  it  was  her  pride  that  needed  healing 
from  an  intense  mortification.  She  expressed 
more  love  to  himself  now  than  she  had  ever 
done  in  her  life.  He  appeared  to  have  gained 
great  value  to  her.  Very  well,  he  should  stand 
by  her.  She  seemed  very  lovable  to  him  in  her 
new  manner,  an  appealing  mingling  of  humility 
and  dignity.  He  knew  James  Barnes  must 
notice  his  wife's  efforts  at  reparation.  He 
should  suppose  they  would  touch  his  brother- 
in-law  as  they  did  himself.  If  they  did,  Barnes 
gave  no  sign  of  it.  He  had  always  been  courte- 
ous and  loyal  to  Mabel.  He  was  so  still.  Of 
course,  Victor  did  not  know  what  had  passed 
between  them,  but  his  sister  had  evidently  suf- 
fered an  earthquake  shock  and  he  did  not  believe 
a  shattered  edifice  could  ever  be  restored. 

333 


The  Right  Track 


This  plan  of  closing  the  house  met  with  his 
entire  approval.  The  less  his  sister  was  with 
her  husband  for  the  next  three  months,  the 
sooner  could  she  come  out  of  her  bewilder- 
ment, readjust  herself,  and  take  up  life  again. 
Possibly  the  thing  she  had  hinted  to  him  was 
true.  Perhaps  James  Barnes  would  want  a 
separation.  Victor  frowned  unconsciously  as 
the  thought  came  to  him.  However,  his  must  be 
a  waiting  game. 

Mr.  Barnes  was  surprised  to  find  that  Ca- 
milla instead  of  his  wife  was  going  to  accom- 
pany him  to  town  that  morning.  She  found 
him  walking  on  the  terrace,  Angus  bounding 
about  him,  and  when  the  collie  saw  his  little 
master,  he  ran  to  him  joyously,  giving  her  the 
opportunity  to  tell  her  plan. 

"But  your  shadow!  He  permits  it,  eh?" 
Mr.  Barnes  looked  eager  and  interested,  his 
eyes  following  the  child  and  capering  dog. 

"Yes.  We've  had  a  talk,  and  he  agrees  that 
a  son  should  take  care  of  his  mother,  and  that 
I'm  better  able  to  go  and  do  the  work  than 
Mrs.  Barnes  is." 

James  Barnes's  smile  died  and  a  line  came 
between  his  brows,  but  he  put  a  hand  on  the 
little  woman's  shoulder. 

334 


The  Only  Son 


"  Camilla !  Miracle-worker,"  he  said.  "Why 
did  n't  you  come  to  us  a  year  ago?" 

" There  is  a  miracle-worker,  Jim,"  she  an- 
swered, "but  it's  not  I." 

"You're  as  near  as  I'll  ever  get  to  it,"  he  re- 
turned. 

"This  is  a  test  for  Junior,"  she  said.  "Be  sure 
to  take  it  as  a  matter  of  course." 

"I  was  just  going  to  tell  you  of  a  surprise  I 
had  arranged  for  him  to-day." 

"Oh,  I'm  so  glad,"  replied  Camilla  eagerly. 
"Something  he  can  show  his  mother?" 

"Show  Mamabel,  yes,"  was  the  reply;  and 
then  James  Barnes  told  her  what  he  had  done. 
"My  father  was  quite  a  mechanical  genius  and 
he  made  them  for  me  when  I  was  a  youngster. 
Victor  and  Pete  put  them  in  place  yesterday 
in  that  grove  up  by  the  pasture  where  the  ham- 
mocks are  hung.  I  expected  to  take  Junior  there 
myself,  but  there  was  too  much  going  on,  and 
we  arrived  too  late." 

"I'm  glad.  Don't  explain  to  him.  Let  me 
arrange  it." 

Mamabel  and  Junior  drove  to  the  station  with 
the  departing  ones.  As  they  stood  on  the  plat- 
form waiting,  Camilla  leaned  down  to  the  little 
boy,  with  a  radiant  face. 

335 


The  Right  Track 


"  I  Ve  found  out  something  lovely,"  she  whis- 
pered, —  "a  big  surprise  that  you  can  give 
Mamabel." 

Junior  was  too  busy  swallowing  to  do  more 
than  cling  to  her  hand  in  silence. 

"You  know  the  grove  where  the  hammocks 
hang?  Well,  what  do  you  think!  It's  a  singing 
grove!  The  breeze  fairies  have  chosen  that 
special  place  to  sing  in.  It 's  quiet  now ;  but  when 
the  breeze  springs  up,  you'll  know  they're  go- 
ing there,  and  you  take  Mamabel  and  see  if 
she  won't  be  surprised  at  what  she  hears!" 

"I  don't  want  to,"  replied  Junior,  with  ex- 
treme gravity. 

"I  believe  you  will  when  you  think  about  it. 
Oh,  those  cunning  breeze  fairies.  Do  you  sup- 
pose they  use  our  hammocks  at  night?  I 
should  n't  wonder.  I  'm  pretty  glad  we  Ve  found 
out  where  they  practice.  I  have  n't  heard  them 
yet.  You  '11  take  me  there  day  after  to-morrow. 
Here  comes  the  train.  I  'm  going  to  buy  a  new 
collar  for  Angus.  What  do  you  suppose  will  be 
engraved  on  it,  right  in  the  metal:  'Angus 
Second,  Property  of  James  Barnes,  Junior.' ' 

How  could  James  Barnes,  Junior,  owner  of  a 
pedigreed  collie,  descend  to  tears!  However, 
when  Camilla  actually  kissed  him  good-bye 

336 


The  Only  Son 


and  he  saw  her  board  the  train,  the  lump  that 
rose  in  his  throat  almost  refused  to  be  swallowed. 

Mabel  saw  the  struggle;  saw  the  wet  eyes. 

"We  don't  like  to  see  our  dearest  ones  go 
away  even  for  a  few  hours,  do  we?"  she  said  as 
they  reentered  the  car  and  Pete  turned  toward 
home.  "I'm  glad  I  have  you,  Junior." 

Under  this  somehow  the  lump  went  down; 
and  as  soon  as  the  child  was  sure  that  no  tell- 
tale drops  would  well  over,  he  stole  a  glance  up 
at  his  stepmother.  She  did  look  very  white  and 
he  felt  that  his  work  was  waiting  for  him. 

"Yes,  you  have  me,"  he  returned  a  little 
tardily.  "  I  'm  your  only  son." 

Then  suddenly  he  was  charmed  with  himself, 
for,  quite  unexpectedly,  a  very  pretty  pink  rose 
bloomed  slowly,  and  deepened  in  each  of  Mama- 
bel's  cheeks.  He  straightened  rip,  his  eyes  only 
a  little  misty. 

"I'm  going  to  take  care  of  you,"  he  added 
valiantly. 


CHAPTER  XXII 

THE   HUSBAND 

WHEN  the  three  from  the  farm  reached  town, 
James  Barnes  went  directly  to  his  office,  and 
Elaine  and  Camilla  to  the  house. 

As  they  entered,  Elaine  looked  about  with  a 
clouded  brow. 

"You  seem  to  have  great  influence  in  the 
family,  Camilla,"  she  said.  "Can't  you  per- 
suade Mamabel  that  it  is  absurd  to  spend  a  lot 
of  money  here  instead  of  moving  to  a  desirable 
place?" 

"Things  are  pretty  sure  to  work  out  right  if 
we  just  keep  our  thought  calm  and  unselfish," 
replied  Camilla. 

"You'd  better  tell  Mamabel  that.  I'm  sure 
it's  very  selfish  of  her  to  insist  the  way  she  does. 
Really  I  had  no  idea  how  ugly  this  house  was 
till  I  came  home  from  school." 

They  were  standing  in  the  hall,  Elaine  cast- 
ing scornful  glances  at  the  high,  dingy  ceilings. 

"Really,  Camilla,  I  mean  it,"  she  went  on. 
"You're  Daddy's  old  friend  and  you  should 
side  with  us." 

338  , 


The  Husband 


"Are  there  sides?"  returned  Camilla. 

"Why,  of  course.  You  can  see  there  are. 
Surely  I  can  speak  plainly  with  you.  I  fancy 
Daddy  was  brought  to  his  senses  pretty  soon 
after  his  marriage.  Not  that  his  letters  showed 
it.  He  ought  to  have  lived  'when  knighthood 
was  in  flower."  The  hardness  under  Elaine's 
smooth  tones  was  audible  to  her  listener.  She 
went  on:  "Of  course,  there's  nothing  to  do  now 
but  bear  it.  Appearances  must  be  kept  up.  I 
realize  that." 

"  I  'm  sorry  to  hear  you  talk  so,  Elaine.  You 
have  been  seeing  a  good  deal  of  Mrs.  Barnes 
lately.  Have  you  no  admiration,  no  sympathy 
for  her?" 

Elaine  shrugged  her  shoulders.  "Admiration? 
Yes,  somewhat,"  she  replied;  "but  why  should 
I  have  sympathy?" 

Camilla's  quiet  voice  lowered.  "Can't  you 
see  that  she  is  having  a  struggle?"  she  asked. 

"  I  daresay,"  returned  Elaine;  "but  what  does 
she  deserve?  Why  did  she  marry  Daddy-?  You 
know  why  as  well  as  I  do;  while  he  married  her 
under  an  infatuation.  Why  did  she  cure  him  of 
that  infatuation  ?  Surely  she  was  n't  very  clever. 
See  how  obstinate  she  is  about  this  house? 
You'd  think  she  might  at  least  be  modest  and 

339 


The  Right  Track 


not  set  her  will  against  Daddy  and  me.  I  see 
no  reason  to  sympathize  with  her." 

Camilla  shook  her  head.  "You  will,  Elaine, 
when  your  hard  times  come,"  she  answered. 

"What  do  you  mean  by  that?  Why  should  I 
have  hard  times  ? "  Elaine  gave  a  little  laugh  of 
conscious  power. 

"Because  Life  forces  us  to  learn  the  great 
lesson  if  we  will  not  study  it  voluntarily." 

"What  lesson?" 

"The  lesson  of  Love." 

"Oh,  dear!  I'm  not  Junior!" 

"No.  It  looks  as  if  he  might  get  far  ahead  of 
you." 

"Oh,  Camilla!  What  a  funny,  good  little 
thing  you  are ! "  laughed  Elaine.  "  I  '11  love  fast 
enough  when  the  time  comes." 

The  girl  started  to  run  upstairs. 

Camilla  caught  her  arm  and  stayed  her. 

"The  time  is  now,  Elaine;  not  to  love  one, 
but  all.  You're  a  pretty,  young  girl  with  every 
temptation  to  be  selfish." 

The  speaker  paused  and  Elaine  looked  down 
into  the  lovely  eyes  which  had  so  long  mirrored 
her  small  brother's  heaven.  A  wave  of  tender- 
ness for  the  little  woman  touched  the  girl's  com- 
placent heart.  What  in  the  world  had  such  as 

340 


The  Husband 


Camilla  to  live  for!  To  think  of  having  no  life 
and  joy  of  one's  own;  to  think  of  having  no 
hope  beyond  serving :  of  smoothing  the  path  of 
others.  The  girl  knew  nothing  of  that  marvel- 
ous exhortation:  "He  that  would  be  greatest 
among  you,  let  him  be  the  servant  of  all." 

She  tolerated  Camilla's  detaining  hand  out 
of  genuine  pity. 

"I  suppose  I  am  selfish,"  she  returned.  "I 
don't  pretend  to  be  above  the  average." 

"But  you  shouldn't  be  contented  with  the 
average.  We  must  all  make  the  pilgrimage  up- 
ward, sooner  or  later.  How  much  better  to  be- 
gin now  than  to  wait  until  forced  by  suffering." 

"How  do  you  want  me  to  begin,  Camilla?  I 
don't  know  what  you're  talking  about." 

"I'm  talking  about  unloving  thoughts. 
Every  one  we  entertain  is  a  sin,  and  should  be 
the  only  thing  we  fear." 

"I  don't  know  that  I  am  so  especially  un- 
loving," returned  Elaine. 

"Loving  those  who  love  us,  who  do  things 
for  us,  or  from  whom  we  hope  for  something, 
is  n't  the  love  with  the  large  'L'  toward  which 
we  must  reach.  I  'm  saying  this  to  you  on  ac- 
count of  Mamabel.  Every  hard  thought  you 
hold  toward  her  adds  to  her  burden." 


The  Right  Track 


Elaine  shrugged  her  shoulders  again.  "  What 
burden  has  she,  pray?" 

"'The  heart  knoweth  its  own  bitterness,5" 
returned  Camilla. 

"Well,  no  burden  that  she  did  n  't  bring  on 
herself,  anyway,"  said  Elaine. 

"We  all  bring  our  burdens  on  ourselves. 
Nothing  is  a  burden  that  has  not  been  at  some 
time  an  error.  Send  love  to  her  instead  of  con- 
demnation every  time  she  comes  into  your 
thoughts  and  you  '11  be  helping  her  and  yourself, 
too;  for  condemnation  embitters  us  and  shuts 
the  door  to  Good." 

Elaine  could  not  wholly  resist  the  look  in  the 
face  upturned  to  her.  She  leaned  over  the  newel 
post  and  took  the  face  between  her  hands. 
"Camilla,"  she  said  emphatically,  "I'm  going 
to  try  very,  very  hard  not  to  grow  as  good  as 
you  are!"  Then  she  ran  upstairs  and  Camilla 
went  toward  the  kitchen  to  find  Katie. 

"As  if  this  impossible  house  was  n't  enough," 
thought  Elaine,  "without  sermons  preached 
while  you  wait." 

But  Camilla  had  given  an  impetus  to  the  girl's 
thought,  and  as  she  laid  oif  her  hat  and  coat  she 
recalled  the  pale,  quiet  woman  who  had  come 
to  the  station  this  morning  to  see  them  off,  and 

342 


The  Husband 


reflected  curiously  concerning  her.  Her  girlish 
vanity,  on  the  lookout  for  signs  of  subjugation 
in  Victor  Ford,  pleaded  also  for  Mabel.  Elaine 
discerned  an  adamantine  loyalty  to  his  sister 
in  the  young  man. 

While  her  thoughts  were  still  busy  she  noticed 
a  note  lying  on  her  dresser.  She  recognized  the 
writing  as  Ben  Walmsley's,  and  seated  herself 
to  open  it. 

"DEAR  ELAINE,"  she  read :  "  I  'm  tired  of  ring- 
ing your  doorbell  and  Katie's  tired  of  seeing 
me.  I  understood  you  to  say  you  were  n't  going 
to  feed  chickens  long,  so  I ' ve  been  waiting  for 
you  to  come  back.  I  understand  Victor  Ford  is 
at  Brierly.  Have  n't  seen  him  for  a  long  time 
and  that  explains  it.  Katie  had  a  message  that 
you  are  coming  in  this  morning,  so  I  leave  this 
note.  Please  call  me  up  and  tell  me  when  I  may 
see  you.  I  hope  the  stunning  Mrs.  Barnes  comes 
in,  too.  I  want  to  meet  her  again." 

"When  did  Ben  ever  see  Mamabel  ? "  thought 
Elaine.  "The  stunning  Mrs.  Barnes."  Again 
the  girl  recalled  Mabel  and  her  dignity.  She  re- 
membered that  her  stepmother  had  said,  "I 
need  to  be  forgiven  for  a  good  many  things."  It 
was  not  to  be  gainsaid  that  she  had  scarcely 
more  in  life  than  Camilla.  She  had  lost  her 

343 


The  Right  Track 


chance.  Here  was  a  man  like  Ben  Walmsley 
calling  her  stunning  and  wishing  to  meet  her 
again;  and  she  had  married  herself  to  a  man 
with  graying  hair,  who  was  courteously  indif- 
ferent to  her. 

Elaine  all  at  once  felt  that  perhaps  she  might 
even  allow  her  stepmother  an  obstinate  pos- 
session of  this  undesirable  house  if  such  a  for- 
lorn thing  could  give  her  any  satisfaction. 

Then  she  rose  and  went  to  the  telephone  and 
made  an  appointment  with  Ben  Walmsley  for 
the  evening. 

Camilla's  main  object  in  accompanying  James 
Barnes  back  to  town  was  to  get  an  opportunity 
to  have  a  talk  with  him  alone.  After  dinner  the 
three  went  to  the  living-room  and  Elaine  sat 
down  at  the  piano  and  played  from  Nocturne 
to  Berceuse  and  Reverie,  in  the  long,  warm 
twilight. 

In  the  midst  of  her  music  the  doorbell  rang 
and  Ben  Walmsley  walked  in.  He  was  good- 
looking  in  a  dark,  full-lipped,  Oriental  fashion, 
and  when  father  and  daughter  had  made  him 
welcome,  he  was  presented  to  Camilla. 

"I  came  over  in  the  machine,  Mr.  Barnes," 
he  said.  "It's  stuffy  indoors  these  evenings. 
Thought  Elaine  might  like  to  take  a  spin." 

344 


The  Husband 


James  Barnes  looked  out  of  the  window  at  the 
low,  narrow,  rakish  affair  waiting  by  the  walk. 

"Don't  know  about  that,"  he  replied.  "When 
did  you  get  pinched  last,  Ben?" 

The  young  fellow's  smile  flashed  white. 
"Word  of  honor,  Mr.  Barnes,  I'll  go  like  a 
maiden  lady  walking  to  church." 

"And  be  back  by  dark,"  added  James  Barnes. 

"Daddy,  that's  a  half  an  hour,"  objected 
Elaine  with  her  prettiest  drawl. 

"Well,  take  care  of  her,  anyway,  Ben,  and 
be  back  in  an  hour." 

"Oh,  we  can  girdle  the  earth  in  an  hour," 
returned  the  young  man,  watching  Elaine  with 
admiring  eyes  as  she  hurried  away  to  get  her 
motor  veil. 

"None  of  that.  That's  just  what  I  object  to 
in  your  driving.  How's  your  mother?" 

"  Fine.  She  sent  her  regards  and  wants  you 
and  Mrs.  Barnes  and  Elaine  to  dine  with  us 
next  Thursday." 

"Thank  her  and  tell  her  we're  closing  the 
house.  You  know,  perhaps,  I  Ve  bought  a  farm 
in  Brierly.  The  family  are  moving  out  and  I  '11 
be  the  only  one  in  town.  I'll  come  to  dinner 
Thursday  if  she'll  have  me.  I  suppose  she'll  be 
going  to  Maine  soon." 

345 


The  Right  Track 


"Yes,  first  of  the  month."  A  pause.  "I 
have  n't  heard  you  invite  me  out  to  the  farm, 
Mr.  Barnes." 

"You'll  have  to  apply  to  Elaine.  She's  the 
chatelaine  there.  Fact  is,"  James  Barnes 
laughed,  "when we're  all  there,  guests  may  have 
to  sleep  in  the  barn  or  the  attic." 

"Can't  scare  me  that  way,"  responded  Ben; 
and  Elaine  appearing  in  the  doorway  in  a  pale 
silk  motor  coat  and  veil,  he  rose. 

"Now,  then,  at  nine  o'clock,"  said  Mr. 
Barnes,  "I  want  to  see  that  untamed  steed  of 
yours,  Ben.  Don't  forget." 

"Right  O.  Au  revoir,"  and  the  young  people 
went  laughing  out  of  the  open  door  and  down 
the  steps. 

"That  boy's  mother  is  one  of  the  finest 
women  on  earth,"  remarked  James  Barnes,  as 
he  and  Camilla  stood  at  the  window  and 
watched  the  departure.  "  I  hope  he  is  a  comfort 
to  her.  A  widow  with  money  and  an  only  son 
has  to  mind  her  £'s  and  #'s  not  to  spoil  him." 

"That  was  the  way  I  persuaded  Junior  to 
stay  in  Brierly  and  let  me  come  away,"  said 
Camilla.  "  I  reminded  him  that  he  was  Mama- 
bel's  only  son  and  must  take  care  of  her." 

James  Barnes  met  his  friend's  smiling  gaze 
346 


The  Husband 


for  a  moment  as  they  turned  away  from  the 
window. 

"The  little  chap  had  a  fight,"  he  returned; 
"but  he  was  game.  You 're  a  wizard.  What  are 
we  going  to  do  with  ourselves,  Camilla,  until 
a  proper  time  to  yawn  ?  How  would  you  like 
to  go  to  the  '  Movies '  ?  Some  right  around  the 


corner." 


"What  would  you  do  if  I  were  n't  here?" 

"Hang  about  until  I  saw  that  sinuous  little 
devil  of  a  machine  bring  Elaine  home,  and 
then  —  I  don't  know." 

"All  right,  then,  we  have  an  hour  to  talk." 

"People  are  sitting  on  the  steps  all  up  and 
down  the  street.  Shall  we  take  out  some 
cushions?" 

"Why  not  stay  right  here?"  suggested  Ca- 
milla. "The  breeze  comes  in  nicely." 

So  James  Barnes  arranged  a  couple  of  chairs 
near  the  window. 

"May  I  smoke?" 

Camilla  assenting,  he  placed  a  cushion  under 
her  feet,  and  lighting  his  cigar,  took  the  oppo- 
site armchair.  When,  he  wondered,  had  he  last 
sat  down  in  this  room  for  a  smoke  and  a  chat! 

"Now,  then,"  he  said,  settling  himself  com- 
fortably, "now  let's  go  back  thirty  years." 

347 


The  Right  Track 


"No,  let's  not  go  back  even  a  week.  Let  the 
dead  past  bury  its  dead." 

"Don't  want  to  bury  it.   It  was  good  stuff." 

Camilla  smiled.  "Well,  the  present  is  better 
stuff.  Let 'stalk  of  the  present." 

"That's  good  stuff,  too,"  responded  her  com- 
panion. "  Katie  likes  the  plan  of  a  vacation.  We 
like  the  farm.  Junior  is  getting  firmly  on  his 
legs.  Everything's  lovely  and  'the  goose  hangs 
high/  The  present  is  quickly  disposed  of. 
You  don't  know  enough  about  farming  to  be 
interested  in  what  Victor  plans  about  apples. 
Say,  Camilla,  why  don't  we  go  for  a  drive?  Let 
me  call  up  the  garage  and  let  Dick  bring  the 
car  around." 

As  he  spoke  Barnes  started  to  rise,  but 
Camilla  leaned  forward  quickly  and  put  out 
her  hand.  "Sit  still,  Jim.  I  know  you  don't 
want  me  to  talk  about  it;  but  I  must  speak  to 
you  of  your  wife." 

James  Barnes  leaned  back  again  in  his  chair. 
"Any  other  subject,  Camilla,"  he  said.  "Not 
that." 

"I  ask  you  as  a  favor  to  listen  to  me." 

"Did  she  ask  you  to  speak  to  me?"  The 
speaker's  face  had  changed  and  the  deep  line 
came  in  his  forehead. 

348 


The  Husband 


"No;  nor  anything  approaching  it." 

"Then,  don't,  Camilla.  No  third  person  can 
help  in  a  problem  between  husband  and  wife." 

Camilla  bit  her  lips.  "You  make  me  feel 
intrusive,"  she  said;  "but  besides  being  hus- 
band and  wife  you  are  human  beings,  children 
of  God  and  my  brother  and  sister,  and  you  are 
unhappy." 

"  I  'm  not  unhappy,  Camilla,"  declared  Barnes 
quickly. 

"That's  a  lie,  Jim,"  she  said  quietly.  "You 
deceived  me  for  a  time,  but  I  Ve  seen  since  that 
you  are  quite  as  unhappy  as  she  is." 

James  Barnes's  face  flushed  and  he  tapped 
the  ashes  from  his  cigar  into  a  receiver.  There 
was  a  brief  silence,  which  he  broke. 

"I  owe  you  my  boy's  life,  and  that  makes 
you  a  privileged  character.  You  are  the  only 
person  in  the  world  to  whom  I  would  listen  or 
explain.  You're  the  salt  of  the  earth,  Camilla, 
but,  believe  me,  you  are  utterly  incapable  of 
understanding  this  situation;  so  now  let's  drop 
the  subject  right  here." 

"No,  we'll  not  drop  it,"  returned  Camilla 
bravely.  "You  say  I  am  privileged  to  speak, 
so  let  me  tell  you  that  your  wife  loves  you, 
Jim." 

349 


The  Right  Track 


He  leaned  forward,  his  elbows  resting  on  the 
arms  of  his  chair,  and  smiled  directly  into 
Camilla's  pleading  eyes. 

"You  kind-hearted  little  Camilla,"  he  said. 
"Can't  those  clear  eyes  of  yours  see  the  differ- 
ence between  love  and  remorse?  Mabel  is  suf- 
fering more  than  she  need,  scourging  herself 
more  than  she  need.  That  is  a  stage  we  can't 
avoid;  but  it  will  soon  be  over.  She  is  young 
and  recuperative,  and  has  her  life  to  live  yet. 
I  can't  bear  that  you  who  have  redeemed  me 
from  utter  despair  should  suffer  needlessly;  so 
trusting  to  your  absolute  honor  I  will  tell  you 
that  I  have  no  idea  of  allowing  the  present 
state  of  affairs  to  drag  on  indefinitely.  In  a 
condition  of  emotional  insanity  I  married  the 
girl,  my  wish  being  father  to  the  thought  that 
she  could  and  would  respond  to  me.  The  hope 
was  inexorably  crushed,  and,  thank  God,  the 
wish  has  gone  with  it." 

"Oh,  Jim!  Jim!"  breathed  Camilla,  turning 
pale. 

The  low,  quiet  voice  continued:  "Some  day 
Mabel  will  meet  the  right  man." 

"Jim!" 

"And  when  that  day  comes  she  will  already 
be  free.  I  have  consulted  my  lawyer — " 

3SO 


The  Husband 


"Jim!"   Camilla's  eyes  were  wet. 

"And  I  know  just  what  to  do  and  when  to 
do  it.  I  am  waiting  for  Mabel  to  recover  her- 
self before  I  tell  her  of  my  plans." 

"God  help  her!"  breathed  Camilla  devoutly. 
"Only  Omnipotence  can  help  her  to  bear  this 
terrible  thing." 

"This  merciful  thing,  Camilla;  merciful  both 
to  her  and  to  me.  It  has  been  easy  for  her  to 
deceive  you." 

"There's  not  a  particle  of  deceit  in  her!" 

"Because  in  her  remorse  she  deceives  herself. 
Why,  look  at  me,  dear  little  friend.  Look  at  the 
iron  entering  into  my  hair.  Look  at  my  dis- 
appearing waist  line.  What  does  a  girl  of  thirty 
want  of  me  except  to  do  her  duty?  I  met  Ben 
Walmsley  on  the  street  the  other  day  and  he 
went  into  eulogy  of  my  beautiful  wife.  He  saw 
her  at  Florio's  one  night  and  several  times  since, 
it  seems.  Ben 's  old  enough  for  her  himself.  She 
should  have  a  gallant  young  lover  like  him,  and 
she  will  have." 

Camilla  listened  with  wide  eyes  and  parted 
lips.  She  felt  herself  trembling,  and  she  rose. 

"Oh,  Jim,"  she  said,  "this  is  terrible.  You're 
right.  I  can't  contend  with  such  a  situation; 
but  the  Father  of  us  all  can  and  will.  With 


The  Right  Track 


God  all  things  are  possible;  and  Mrs.  Barnes 
has  learned  how  to  look  to  Him.  He  will  take 
care  of  her.  She  wants  no  gallant  young  lover. 
She  wants  you." 

"Enough  of  that,  Camilla,"  returned  James 
Barnes  harshly.  He  had  risen  when  she  did  and 
stood  facing  her.  "That's  dangerous  talk;  and 
I'm  glad  I'm  not  sentimental  enough  to  be 
taken  in  by  it.  Now,  I  Ve  talked  to  you  frankly 
because  of  my  tremendous  obligation  and  re- 
gard and  respect;  but  it's  the  last  time;  and  I 
request  that  you  never  reopen  the  subject.  You 
have  had  no  opportunity  and  I  every  oppor- 
tunity to  know  the  real  facts.  Mabel  has  de- 
ceived you  because  she  is  deceiving  herself,  and 
I'm  sorry  that  you're  drawn  into  our  problem. 
There  was  no  need  of  that,  but  it  is  the  natural 
result  of  her  selfishness." 

"Those  are  hard  words,  James  Barnes," 
returned  Camilla  with  heat,  and  her  eyes  glowed. 
"  May  you  find  more  mercy  in  your  time  of  need 
than  you  grant." 

She  stood  for  a  moment  more,  meeting  his 
impenetrable  gaze;  then  she  turned  suddenly 
and  left  the  room. 


CHAPTER  XXIII 

THE   SINGING   GROVE 

ON  the  ride  home  to  the'  farm  that  morn- 
ing, Junior's  sense  of  responsibility  deepened  as 
he  occasionally  glanced  up  at  his  stepmother's 
face.  She  had  put  her  arm  around  him  when  he 
stated  that  he  was  her  only  son,  and  had  looked 
very  rosy  for  a  minute,  but  the  roses  faded 
quickly  and  her  face  fell  into  its  still  whiteness. 

Camilla  had  left  Mamabel  in  his  care,  and 
as  the  motor  sped  up  the  village  street  his  little 
brain  was  busy  thinking  up  ways  and  means  of 
making  those  pink  roses  stay,  and  making  her 
eyes  glad. 

Mabel  became  conscious  of  his  upward 
glances  and  recalled  her  wandering  thoughts. 

Looking  down  into  his  serious  face  she  smiled, 
considering  the  marvelous  recuperative  power 
of  childhood  and  the  total  change  which  had 
come  over  the  little  boy's  physique  since  Ca- 
milla first  appeared  in  the  Barnes  household. 

"Do  you  like  ponies  and  dogs?"  he  asked, 
responding  to  the  recognition  in  her  eyes. 

"Very  much  indeed,"  she  answered. 
353 


The  Right  Track 


The  reply  was  disconcerting.  Junior  had 
hoped  she  would  prove  indifferent. 

"You  see,"  he  said,  "Popinjay  was  my  birth- 
day present.  So  was  Angus.  It  is  n't  polite  to 
give  away  birthday  presents,  is  it?" 

"Oh,  no,  indeed." 

"I  think  Daddy  would  get  you  a  pony  and  a 
dog  if  you  want  them." 

Mabel  gave  him  a  little  squeeze.  "There  are 
other  things  I'd  so  much  rather  have,"  she 
answered. 

Junior  mentally  ran  over  the  list  of  his  pos- 
sessions. 

"Is  it  anything  I  have?"  he  asked. 

His  stepmother  caught  her  lip  under  her  teeth. 

"Yes,  dear,  —  you  have  heaps  of  it,"  she 
answered. 

Junior  was  silent.  He  did  not  wish  to  make 
rash  promises;  but  consider  as  he  would,  he 
could  not  think  of  anything  of  which  he  pos- 
sessed heaps  except  toys.  Would  a  grown-up 
lady  care  for  marbles  and  toys  and  trains  and 
boats  ? 

When  the  motor  stopped  before  the  house  he 
was  still  considering. 

"When '11  you  want  to  go  for  your  ride, 
Junior?"  asked  Pete  as  they  left  the  car. 

354 


The  Singing  Grove 


The  boy  looked  up  at  Mabel.  Her  white  veil 
had  fallen  off. 

"  I  'm  going  to  stay  with  Mamabel  this  morn- 
ing," he  replied. 

Mabel  began  to  perceive  that  she  was  on  his 
mind. 

"Oh,  Popinjay  does  n't  want  to  stay  shut 
up  in  the  stable  all  the  morning,"  she  protested 
cheerfully,  and  at  this  moment  the  collie  came 
galloping  madly  around  the  corner  of  the  house. 
"  I  'm  going  to  sit  right  out  here  under  the  trees 
and  sew  and  watch  you  ride,"  she  went  on.  "  I  '11 
go  in  and  get  my  work." 

"  I  'm  going  to  have  a  pony-cart  after  a  while 
and  then  I'm  going  to  take  you  riding,"  re- 
turned Junior. 

"  Fine !  That  will  be  lots  of  fun."  And  Mabel 
went  into  the  house.  When  she  came  out  again 
with  her  books  and  her  work,  Junior's  short  legs 
were  astride  the  little  pony,  and  Pete  was  run- 
ning along  beside  him  down  toward  the  avenue. 

Lucretia,  who  had  conceived  an  extreme  ad- 
miration for  Mrs.  Barnes,  came  out  of  the  house 
to  arrange  her  table  and  the  hammock  chair 
under  one  of  the  sentinel  elms. 

"Pete  works  as  hard  as  Popinjay,"  remarked 
Mabel. 

355 


The  Right  Track 


"Does  me  good  to  see  bin,"  replied  Lucretia 
grimly.  "Pete's  lazy  by  nature  and  the  livery 
was  just  turnin'  him  into  one  o'  these  —  hossi- 
fied  men.  That's  what  they  call  'em,  ain't  it, 
when  they  can't  move  hand  or  foot?  I  s'pose 
'cause  they  let  hosses  do  everything  for  'em. 
When  he  was  drivin'  the  livery,  he  used  to  think 
he  was  dreadful  smart,  askin'  me  if  I  wanted 
him  to  run  alongside  the  hoss;  and  now  he's 
actially  come  to  it;  it  just  does  me  all  the  good 
in  the  world  to  see  him  have  to  hump  himself." 
Lucretia  smiled  heartlessly. 

"  I  think  it  hurts  Junior's  dignity  very  much 
not  to  be  allowed  to  go  alone,"  returned  Mabel, 
as  she  leaned  back  in  the  hammock  chair  and 
Lucretia  placed  the  table  conveniently  at  her 
elbow.  "I  heard  him  asking  his  father  this 
morning  if  he  might  not  go  alone." 

Lucretia  sniffed.  "I  hope  he'll  be  slow 
enough  learnin'  to  get  Pete  well  shaken  up,"  she 
returned.  "Now  you  got  everything  you  want, 
Mis' Barnes?" 

As  she  asked  it  Lucretia  glanced  sharply  at 
the  books  Mabel  was  placing  on  the  table.  One 
was  a  Bible. 

"Queer  doin's,  readin'  the  Bible  in  the  morn- 
in',"  thought  Lucretia,  as  she  walked  back  to 

356 


The  Singing  Grove 


the  house.  "Wonder  if  she's  afraid  she's  goin' 
to  die.  She's  got  kind  of  a  queer,  far-off  look. 
I  'd  rather  see  her  have  a  novel  there  or  some- 
thing natural  for  a  young,  pretty  woman  to  be 
readin'."  Lucretia  shook  her  head.  "  I  '11  never 
be  married,  and  if  I  was,  I  s'pose  I  'd  never  know 
how  rich  married  folks  act.  P'r'aps  't  ain't 
stylish  for  two  folks  to  sleep  in  the  same  room; 
but  it  does  seem  queer  to  me  that  Jim  Barnes 
likes  the  south  attic  better 'n  his  wife's  pretty 
chamber.  Says  he  likes  to  see  the  descendants 
o '  the  hang-birds  he  used  to  watch  nestin'  when 
he  was  a  boy.  It'll  come  pipin'  hot  pretty 
soon  and  then  I  guess  he'll  come  down  off  the 
perch,  scootin'."  Lucretia  shook  her  head  again. 
4 'There's  something  there  I  don't  understand. 
There's  a  way  she  looks  at  him  that  I  don't 
understand.  Perhaps  it's  the  reason  she  reads 
the  Bible  on  a  sightly  summer  mornin'.  If  I 
thought  Jim  Barnes  was  n't  good  to  that  sweet 
girl  after  he's  married  her,  I  don't  believe  I 
could  contain  myself." 

Bessie  was  putting  away  the  silver  when 
Lucretia  entered  the  house  and  the  older  woman 
looked  at  her  curiously,  half  minded  to  ask  a 
few  questions  of  a  girl  who  had  been  with  the 
Barneses  all  their  married  life;  but  an  unnamed 

357 


The  Right  Track 


loyalty  restrained  her.  Lucretia  had  silently 
adopted  Mabel  Barnes. 

When  Junior's  activities  were  over  and  Pop- 
injay was  tethered  in  the  pleasant  meadow,  he 
returned  to  his  stepmother  and  found  her  read- 
ing. All  of  the  enchantment  and  none  of  the 
enervation  of  summer  was  in  the  air.  The  miles 
and  miles  of  turquoise  sky  with  its  islands  of 
fleecy  cloud,  the  rich  verdure  of  rolling  acres 
of  turf,  the  June  leafage  of  graceful  elms,  their 
tassels  swaying  in  a  fresh  breeze,  and  joyous 
bursts  of  melody  from  robin  and  oriole  sur- 
rounded her. 

Mabel  pressed  her  book  against  her  closed 
eyes.  "Dear  Father  in  heaven,  forgive  me," 
she  breathed  against  the  pages.  "  I  have  every- 
thing in  the  world  that  I  don't  want." 

Here  Junior  approached.  He  saw  her  sudden 
movement.  It  was  an  unhappy  movement. 
With  recollection  he  realized  that  he  was  neg- 
lecting his  business.  Now,  which  of  his  toys 
could  it  be  that  Mamabel  wanted ! 

Angus,  with  red  mouth  panting,  stretched 
his  white-and-gold  body  on  the  cool  turf.  He 
worked  as  hard  as  Pete  when  the  young  master 
rode  abroad. 

"Was  it  a  good  ride? "asked  Mabel,  dropping 
3S8 


The  Singing  Grove 


her  book  and  smiling  into  the  big  serious  eyes 
fixed  upon  her. 

"Yes."  The  child  came  close  to  her  side  and 
pressed  against  her  pale  pink  gown.  "What  is 
it  that  I  have  that  you  want,  Mamabel?" 

"Nothing,  darling.  I  don't  understand  you." 

"Yes,  you  said  you  did.  You  said  I  had 
heaps." 

Mabel  remembered.  "Oh,  yes,  so  I  did;  but 
it's  nothing  you  can  give  me." 

Something  stirred  in  the  child's  heart  at  the 
look  in  her  face. 

"Yes,  I  can,  Mamabel.  I  can  give  away  my 
own  things  —  when  they're  not  birthday  pres- 
ents. I'll  give  you  whatever  you  want."  She 
took  hold  of  his  hand,  and  he  suddenly  felt  that 
he  loved  her  very  much  indeed.  "Even  if 
it's"  —  the  words  stuck  a  little  and  he  swal- 
lowed —  "even  if  it's  my  yacht,  you  can  have 
it." 

Mabel  kissed  the  cheek  so  near  her  with  a 
cooing  sound  of  appreciation.  The  yacht  was 
a  full-rigged  little  boat  to  sail  on  the  pond 
when  Uncle  Victor  or  some  other  grown-up 
had  time  to  cooperate.  Here  was  a  sacrifice, 
indeed ! 

"  It  is  n't  the  yacht,  darling,  thank  you.  Sup- 
359 


The  Right  Track 


posing  I  wanted  your  rosy  cheeks  —  your 
health." 

"But  don't  you  feel  well,  Mamabel?" 

"Not  all  the  time.  You  see  there's  health, 
and  happiness,  and  love,  and  things  like  that, 
that  you  might  have  heaps  of  and  yet  you 
could  n't  give  them  away,  could  you?" 

"Well,"  Junior's  eyes  questioned  her  with 
round  eagerness,  "then  why  don't  you  ask  God? 
He  has  enough  of  everything  good  for  every- 
body. Camilla  says  so." 

Mabel's  arm  encircled  the  speaker  closely. 

"That's  what  I'm  trying  to  learn  to  do, 
Junior;  but  first  you  have  to  know  God,  and 
then  you  have  to  ask  Him  'aright.'  That's  the 
hard  part,  when  you  have  never  known  Him, 
and  when  you  don't  know  how  to  put  your  own 
will  down  and  ask  Him  'aright." 

Junior  nodded  as  one  having  experience. 
"Yes,  I  used  to  kick  instead,"  he  remarked. 
After  a  pause  he  added:  "What  is  it  you  want, 
Mamabel?  I'll  help  you  ask." 

"Oh,  Junior,  you  can't  help  me,  dearest. 
Nobody  but  God  can  help  me;  and  He  has 
helped  me  in  giving  me  your  love.  You  do  love 
me  a  little,  don't  you?" 

"Of  course  I  do,"  returned  the  child,  feeling 
360 


The  Singing  Grove 


very  protective,  "and  I'm  going  to  show  you 
things  and  make  you  happy.  Let 's  go  down  to 
the  brook." 

"Very  well."  Mabel  prepared  to  leave  the 
hammock  chair,  and  she  folded  her  neglected 
sewing  deep  into  a  silk  workbag  and  left  it  on 
the  table. 

Angus  stopped  panting  for  a  moment  and 
looked  to  see  what  was  doing.  How  warm  he 
still  was  from  running.  How  soft  and  cool  the 
turf  in  the  elm  shade !  Why  must  humans  be  so 
restless !  There  the  two  went,  down  the  hillside 
toward  the  brook.  Angus  really  hated  to  leave 
this  certain  good;  but  the  harrowing  thought 
that  he  might  miss  something  was  too  much  for 
his  doggish  heart,  and  gathering  himself  up 
again,  panting,  he  loped  after  his  master. 

In  a  clump  of  tall  hazel  bushes,  a  rustic  seat 
had  been  placed.  "I  did  n't  know  this  was  here," 
said  Mabel.  "What  a  pretty  surprise." 

Junior  beamed  with  satisfaction.  "You  can 
sit  here  and  sew  sometimes,"  he  said;  and  he 
stood  by  his  companion  while  she  tried  the 
bench,  leaning  back  and  watching  the  brook, 
whispering  and  gurgling  almost  at  her  feet  as  it 
hurried  to  the  meadow. 

"And  here's  a  lot  of  peppermint,"  said  Junior, 


The  Right  Track 


stooping  and  breaking  off  sprigs  of  the  mint 
that  grew  thickly  at  the  edge  of  the  water. 

"How  good  it  smells,"  said  Mabel,  pressing 
it  in  her  palms  and  inhaling  it  as  the  pleased  child 
watched  her. 

"Perhaps  I  can  find  you  a  turtle.  I  found  one 
yesterday."  Junior  stooped  on  hands  and  knees 
by  the  brook.  "They're  black  and  have  gold 
spots  all  over  them;  those  are  the  gentle  ones. 
Pete  told  me  to  look  out  for  the  snappers;  but 
they're  the  prettiest.  Their  under  shells  are 
bright  red  ivory  and  some  are  white  ivory,  and 
I  want  to  find  'em.  I'll  give  'em  a  stick  to 
bite." 

The  little  boy  went  up  and  down  the  bank, 
and  lay  on  his  stomach,  the  better  to  inspect  the 
rippling  stream;  but  the  turtles  were  coy,  and 
at  last  he  grew  tired  of  the  search,  to  Angus' 
sincere  regret.  The  dog  had  curled  under 
Mabel's  bench,  and  now  reluctantly  dragged 
himself  forth  as  Junior  again  put  his  hand  in 
Mamabel's  and  led  her  down  the  brookside  to 
where  a  couple  of  boards  were  placed  across  the 
water. 

"Uncle  Victor  says  we'll  have  a  little  bridge 
put  here  soon;  but  don't  be  afraid,  Mamabel. 
I'll  help  you  across." 

362 


The  Singing  Grove 


Mabel  smiled  and  allowed  herself  to  be  care- 
fully convoyed  over  the  ripples  of  water  a  foot 
deep. 

The  grassy  path  they  came  into  led  to  the 
woodland,  and  through  it,  by  a  comparatively 
short  cut,  to  the  village.  Here  four  months  ago 
the  arbutus  had  braved  the  snow  with  its  rose, 
and  fragrantly  foretold  the  spring. 

Before  the  stone-walled  path  was  lost  in  deep 
woods,  a  little  shaded  square  of  ground  came 
into  view  on  the  left.  Mabel  looked  and  saw 
two  tombstones.  The  wall  stopped  abruptly 
and  she  stepped  into  the  little  bury  ing-ground. 
The  earth  was  covered  with  a  mat  of  leaves  of 
lily-of-the-valley.  In  the  shade  and  moisture 
even  on  this  June  day  sprays  of  white  bells 
were  still  clinging  about  the  mossy  stones. 

The  silence  was  unbroken  even  by  the  brook- 
let's murmur.  Mabel  went  close  to  the  stones 
and  examined  the  moss-grown  letters.  "It's 
my  great-grandfather  and  my  great  grand- 
mother," explained  Junior. 

Mabel  deciphered  the  names ;  then  she  stood 
up  in  the  shade  of  a  stately  spreading  pine  and 
looked  down  at  the  carpet  of  long  green  leaves, 
which  had  been  such  a  glorious  gathering  of  lily 
bells  two  weeks  before. 

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The  Right  Track 


"What  peace!"  she  exclaimed  softly,  clasp- 
ing her  hands  together.  "What  peace!" 

Junior  watched  her  complacently.  It  cer- 
tainly was  pretty  good  fun  to  show  Mamabel 
things,  she  enjoyed  them  so  much. 

Suddenly  his  stepmother  kneeled  down  be- 
fore him  in  the  lilies  and  took  hold  of  his  hands, 
and  appealed  to  him  with  dark  eyes:  "Junior, 
you're  a  very  little  boy  to  be  expected  to  re- 
member things,"  she  said;  "but  will  you  try  to 
remember,  if  —  if  anything  happens  to  me  — 
you  know  people  do  fall  ill  sometimes,  and  — 
and  die,  and  if  I  should,  will  you  tell  —  tell 
Daddy  that  this  is  where  I  should  like  to  lie  — 
here  under  the  lilies?" 

Junior's  face  grew  slowly  scarlet  under  her 
beseeching  eyes.  His  heart  beat  fast  and  he 
wished  for  Camilla.  A  surging,  half  fear,  half 
grief,  rose  in  his  throat,  and  he  pulled  his  hands 
away  from  her  clinging  grasp. 

She  saw  his  disturbance  and  quickly  re- 
pented. 

"I  shouldn't  have  said  that,  dear,"  she 
exclaimed  in  a  changed  tone.  "Forgive  me. 
Mamabel  gets  very  tired  sometimes  and  this 
looks  like  such  a  sweet  place  to  rest." 

"I  should  think  you'd  know  that  nobody 
364 


The  Singing  Grove 


dies,"  returned  Junior,  swallowing  hard, — 
"they  just  go  on  living  and  —  and  loving 
everybody  —  and  —  and  having  a  good  time." 

"I  like  to  have  you  remind  me  of  those 
things,"  returned  Mabel.  The  flushed  face  and 
moist  eyes  rebuked  her.  "  I  ought  to  remember 
them  always."  She  rose.  "I  wonder  if  we  can't 
find  some  squirrels  if  we  go  into  those  woods," 
she  said  cheerfully.  "I  love  to  see  them  scam- 
per up  and  down  the  trees,  don't  you  ?  I  never 
lived  in  the  country  till  now  and  there  are  lots 
of  things  you  can  show  me." 

Her  words  reminded  Junior  of  Camilla's 
parting  information,  and  though  his  heart 
still  beat  a  little  fast,  he  took  his  compan- 
ion's offered  hand  and  led  her  on  into  the 
woods. 

She  did  the  talking  for  a  few  minutes. 

"Let's  come  here  next  winter  when  the  snow 
is  deep.  Would  n't  it  be  fun?  The  squirrels 
will  be  all  sleeping  cuddled  up  in  their  warm 
nests,  or  nibbling  the  nuts  they  packed  away 
for  winter;  but  the  brave  rabbits  will  go  scut- 
tling over  the  snow  winking  their  little  tails. 
What  do  you  suppose  they  find  to  eat?" 

"We  —  we  could  bring  them  something," 
suggested  Junior. 

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The  Right  Track 


"Yes,  would  n't  it  be  fun  to  bring  them  a 
feast!  Let's  see,  what  would  they  like!" 

"My  jumping  rabbit  has  a  carrot  in  his 
mouth." 

"Yes,  carrots,  and  nice  little  tender  cabbage 
leaves,  and  lettuce." 

By  the  time  the  rabbit  menu  was  completed, 
Junior  was  gay  again. 

"I  have  something  else  to  show  you,"  he  an- 
nounced. 

"I'm  so  glad.   I  love  surprises." 

"Well,  we  have  to  go  this  way,"  and  Junior 
led  his  companion  back  past  the  lilies-of-the- 
valley  to  the  brook  where  they  crossed  again 
on  the  narrow  boards,  Angus  following.  They 
went  up  the  hillside  past  the  mound  at  the  left 
of  the  house  and  over  toward  the  woods  that 
bordered  the  pond.  Here  was  a  grove  of  oaks 
and  pines  and  they  had  to  go  through  a  gap  in 
a  stone  wall  to  enter  it.  There  were  two  ham- 
mocks hung  among  the  trees  where  one  could 
lie  and  watch  the  blue  water  glinting  amid  the 
foliage. 

"This  is  my  horse,"  cried  Junior,  breaking 
away  from  Mabel's  hand  and  springing  astride 
the  long,  low  bough  of  an  ancient  pine,  which 
sprang  flexibly  beneath  his  light  weight  and  al- 

366 


The  Singing  Grove 


lowed  him  to  bound  up  and  down  in  an  exciting 
gallop.  He  was  in  the  midst  of  this  breakneck 
race,  and  Mabel  had  just  sunk  comfortably  into 
one  of  the  hammocks,  when  a  soft  strange  sound 
began  to  float  through  the  tops  of  the  sighing 
pines.  It  swelled  to  harmony,  diminished,  and 
seemed  about  to  die  away. 

Junior  reined  in  his  mettlesome  steed  and 
sat  still,  while  Mabel  half  raised  herself  in  the 
hammock  and  gazed  at  him. 

"How  lovely!"  she  said.  "Is  that  the  sur- 
prise?" 

It  certainly  was;  but  as  the  harmonies  did 
not  die  away,  but  swelled  to  still  greater  vol- 
ume than  before,  the  surprise  overwhelmed 
the  showman,  who  dismounted  from  his  charger 
and  came  close  to  Mamabel,  and  her  arm  in  its 
short  pink  sleeve  went  around  him. 

"What  is  it,  Junior,  what  is  it?"  she  ex- 
claimed softly  and  delightedly,  while  the  boy's 
cheeks  grew  very  red  and  his  eyes  big,  in  spite  of 
a  heroic  endeavor  to  be  nonchalant. 

"Oh  —  oh,  nothing  much,"  he  replied  after 
a  pause,  while  the  wind  harmonies  whispered 
and  sighed  and  swelled  as  the  ripples  of  the 
pond  rushed  landward  in  the  breeze. 

"How  could  you  wait  to  bring  me  here,  dear? 

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The  Right  Track 


Is  n't  it  the  loveliest  thing  to  lie  here  and  listen  ? 
I  can't  imagine  what  makes  those  sweet  sounds." 

"1  know,"  remarked  Junior,  his  awe  and  sur- 
prise slowly  submerged  in  a  satisfactory  sense 
of  superiority.  At  the  same  time  he  liked  Ma- 
mabel's  encircling  arm,  for  the  harmonies  com- 
ing from  nowhere  and  sighing,  swelling,  and 
fading  were  a  trifle  uncanny. 

"The  name  of  these  woods  is  the  'singing 
grove.'  Did  you  know  that?"  he  asked. 

"Indeed,  I  did  not.  Tell  me  more." 

"Do  you  know  who's  singing?" 

"No.  Do  you?" 

"Of  course  I  do.  It's  only  the  breeze  fairies. 
Here's  where  they  practice  singing." 

"Why,  Junior,  that's  wonderful,"  replied 
Mabel,  half  laughing.  "Why  did  n't  you  tell  me 
about  this  before?" 

Junior  did  not  care  to  admit  how  recent  was 
his  own  information.  He  preferred  to  patronize 
Mamabel. 

"  I  told  you  I  'd  make  you  have  a  good  time," 
he  said.  "This  is  the  singing  grove  where  the 
breeze  fairies  come  every  day  to  practice.  Do 
you  like  it?" 

"I  love  it,"  responded  Mabel,  and  drawing 
the  child  a  bit  closer,  she  kissed  the  rosy  cheek. 


CHAPTER  XXIV 

GUTEN  ABEND,  GUTE  NACHT 

THEY  told  Uncle  Victor  about  it  at  the  dinner- 
table,  and  aslie  had  helped  to  place  the  ^Eolian 
harps  in  the  trees,  he  was  much  entertained  by 
his  sister's  sincere  curiosity  as  to  the  source  of 
the  sounds  and  Junior's  complacent  knowledge 
of  everything  in  general  and  breeze  fairies  in 
particular. 

The  little  boy  related  how  these  airy  beings 
used  to  sweep  and  clean  his  bedroom  in  town 
and  how  much  they  preferred  the  country  to  the 
city  when  summer  came. 

Victor  was  glad  of  the  child's  prattle,  inas- 
much as  he  saw  that  it  entertained  Mabel. 
The  young  man's  eyes  strayed  often  and 
anxiously  to  his  sister's  face.  Why  should  she 
look  so  ethereal?  She  had  always  been  strong. 
Jim  Barnes  was  not  a  man  to  show  a  woman  any 
unkindness.  Surely  she  would  settle  down  now 
in  this  healthful  place,  see  her  husband  not 
more  than  once  a  week,  and  get  hold  of  herself 
again.  Victor  made  up  his  mind  to  take  her 

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The  Right  Track 


driving  every  day;  and  he  found  himself  hoping 
that  she  and  Elaine  would  come  to  understand 
one  another  better  and  better;  but  he  arrested 
this  thought  with  a  frown.  "I'm  the  biggest 
fool  at  large  to  let  that  girl  influence  me,"  he 
reflected.  "I  know  well  enough  that  nothing 
on  earth  would  persuade  me  to  marry  her  even 
if  I  had  the  price.  I  don't  want  her  and  I  won't 
have  her." 

The  form  of  this  resolution  arose  from 
Elaine's  own  behavior,  which  was  always  colored 
with  laughing,  conscious  power  and  implied  that 
there  could  be  but  one  end  to  their  companion- 
ship. He  seemed  to  himself  to  be  always  strug- 
gling against  meshes  which  he  could  neither  see 
nor  feel,  but  which  she  knew  were  there  and 
triumphantly  recognized  as  binding  him. 

In  the  afternoon  Junior  had  another  ride  on 
Popinjay,  while  Mabel  sewed  under  the  elms. 
While  she  was  at  work,  she  saw  a  woman's 
figure  plodding  up  the  avenue,  and  as  it  came 
nearer  she  perceived  that  she  was  about  to  have 
a  caller,  and  folding  up  her  sewing,  she  was 
ready  to  rise  from  her  chair  and  greet  Miss 
Shanklin. 

"I  came  to  make  my  party  call,"  observed 
the  latter,  panting  a  little;  "but  I  did  n't  know 

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Guten  Abend,  Gute  Nacht 

whether  there  'd  be  any  one  to  make  it  on  but 
Lucretia." 

Mabel  placed  another  chair  for  the  visitor, 
who  looked  at  it  doubtfully. 

"  I  guess  I  'm  too  warm  to  sit  outdoors,"  she 
said. 

"We'll  go  in,"  responded  the  hostess,  and  led 
the  way  to  the  house.  "This  pretty  room  gets 
very  much  neglected,"  she  added  as  they  en- 
tered. "We  live  out  of  doors." 

"Mosquitoes '11  be  around  pretty  soon,"  re- 
marked Miss  Shanklin,  "but  you're  pretty 
high  here  and  away  from  the  trees."  She  looked 
at  Mabel  as  she  took  her  chair.  This  was  cer- 
tainly luck  to  get  the  second  Mrs.  Barnes  alone 
for  a  visit! 

"I  saw  little  Jim  as  I  came  along,"  went  on 
the  caller.  "He  certainly  has  everything  to 
make  a  boy  happy."  Miss  Shanklin  heaved 
a  sigh.  "I  was  wishin'  poor  Lucy  could  see 
him!" 

"Lucy?"  inquired  Mrs.  Barnes. 

"Yes.  His  mother.  She  was  my  cousin,  you 
know.  You  won't  mind  my  sighin'  when  I  think 
about  her.  She  was  Jim's  first  love  and  they 
got  married  when  he  did  n't  have  much  of  any 
money,  and  then  Elaine  was  born  —  a  kind 


The  Right  Track 


of  spindlin'  baby  she  was;  then  the  next  two 
they  lost;  then  Junior  came  along  and  poor 
Lucy  gave  way.  Of  course,  when  I  see  this 
beautiful  place  and  the  motors  and  the  yachts 
and  the  ponies  and  all  the  things  money  will 
buy,  I  can't  help  thinking  of  poor  Lucy  and  how 
she  'd  have  enjoyed  it  all." 

Mabel  felt  there  was  an  inimical  note  under- 
neath this,  but  her  mortal  sorrow  made  petty 
resentment  impossible. 

"It  is  strange,"  she  returned,  "how  many 
lives  we  live  in  one.  I  suppose  Mr.  Barnes  does 
not  seem  to  himself  at  all  like  the  man  who 
married  your  cousin." 

Miss  Shanklin  gave  the  speaker  a  sharp 
glance. 

"Besides,"  went  on  Mabel,  "you  have  no 
cause  to  pity  her.  She  had  the  most  precious 
things  in  life  —  the  things  that  money  won't 
buy." 

"Well,"  remarked  the  caller  with  a  sniff, 
"I  s'pose  so;  but  folks  that  haven't  been  poor 
don't  know  what  it  means." 

"I  have  been  poor  and  I  know  all  about  it," 
returned  Mabel  with  the  same  calm.  "I  used 
to  fear  and  hate  poverty,  but  it  would  have  no 
terrors  for  me  now.  When  one  has  lived  longer, 

372 


Guten  Abend,  Gute  Nacht 

one  finds  how  far  down  the  line  of  things  to  be 
desired,  money  has  a  place." 

"Well,  I  don't  know,"  returned  Miss  Shank- 
lin,  unconvinced,  but  mightily  curious,  as  she 
gazed  at  her  hostess,  taking  in  the  details  of  her 
pale-pink  cotton  gown,  the  black  coronet  of  her 
hair,  and  the  buckles  on  her  little  slippers. 

"That  woman  ain't  happy,"  she  reflected. 
"Wonder  if  she's  sorry  she  married  Jim?  Most 
likely  she  means  she  'd  be  glad  to  have  her  free- 
dom and  her  poverty  back  again." 

"Camilla  has  gone  to  town,"  went  on  Mabel. 
"She  is  taking  the  care  of  closing  the  house." 

"Oh,  that's  what  you're  goin'  to  do,"  re- 
turned Miss  Shanklin.  "Jim  goin'  to  stay  out 
here?" 

"Part  of  the  time  here,  and  the  rest  at  his 
club." 

"I  hope  he'll  make  out  to  get  a  lot  o'  time 
at  the  farm,  and  get  filled  up  with  it,  as  you 
might  say.  He's  just  crazy  about  it  and  has 
been  for  years.  As  we  get  along  we  do  find 
there  ain't  anything  so  satisfyin'  as  the  old 
friends  and  the  old  associations." 

"I  suppose  so,"  returned  Mabel  mechani- 
cally, and  the  delicacy  of  her  face  suddenly 
impressed  Charity  Shanklin. 

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The  Right  Track 


"Dear  me,"  thought  the  latter.  "I  wonder 
if  Jim  Barnes  is  goin'  to  lose  his  second  ?  Looks 
to  me  as  if  she  did  n't  care  much  whether  she 
stayed  or  not." 

Here  Junior  clattered  up  the  piazza  steps  and 
into  the  room.  He  paused  at  sight  of  the  visitor, 
who  stretched  out  a  welcoming  hand  in  a  gray 
cotton  glove. 

"Come  here,  little  Jim  —  or  Junior,  I  be- 
lieve they  call  you.  Come  and  kiss  Cousin 
Cherry  and  tell  me  about  your  ride.  My,  how 
he  does  look  like  Lucy !  She  had  those  big  gray 
eyes.  I  remember  just  how  they  shone  under 
her  white  veil  the  day  she  was  married." 

"Go  to  Miss  Shanklin,  dear,"  said  Mabel, 
as  Junior  hung  back,  his  gaze  somber. 

"No  Miss  Shanklin  about  it,"  declared  the 
visitor  persuasively.  "I'm  his  Cousin  Cherry. 
He  knows  that,  don't  you,  little  man?" 

Urged  by  his  stepmother's  encouraging  hand, 
Junior  stepped  forward  and  permitted  the  caller 
to  kiss  his  cheek.  She  tried  to  lift  him  to  her 
lap,  but  he  slid  away  and  back  to  Mamabel's 
side.  Mabel  put  her  arm  around  him  and  Miss 
Shanklin  watched  the  mute  signs  of  their 
friendship. 

"Are  you  tired,  Mamabel?"  asked  the  child, 
374 


Guten  Abend,  Gute  Nacht 

some  sign  in  her  unsmiling  face  impressing  him. 
"You  can  lie  down  on  the  divan." 

Charity  caught  the  solicitous  note  in  the  boy's 
voice,  and  at  the  same  moment  Lucretia  ap- 
peared at  the  open  door  with  a  glass  on  a  tray. 

"I've  been  lookin'  outdoors  for  you,  Mis' 
Barnes.  Here's  an  eggnog  I  want  you  should 
drink.  I  took  notice  you  did  n't  eat  enough 
dinner  for  a  bird.  Howdy  do,  Cherry?" 

Mabel  looked  up  gratefully  at  Lucretia. 

"What  will  you  bring  Miss  Shanklin  and 
Junior  to  keep  me  in  countenance?" 

"How  about  ginger  ale,  Cherry  ?  Like  some  ? ' ' 
inquired  Lucretia  sententiously. 

"Well,  I  am  kind  o'  hot  still,"  admitted  the 
caller,  folding  her  gray  gloved  hands  and  settling 
back  more  comfortably  in  her  chair. 

"Then,  thank  you,  Lucretia,  you're  very- 
good,  and  I  shall  enjoy  this."  Mabel  took  the 
brimming,  creamy,  yellow  glass.  "You  go  with 
Lucretia,  Junior,  and  bring  back  the  ginger 
ale  for  your  Cousin  Cherry  and  yourself." 

The  ginger  ale  helped  out  the  remainder  of 
the  call  wonderfully,  and  finally  Miss  Shanklin 
took  her  leave.  It  was  about  time  for  Pete  to 
go  for  the  mail,  so  Mabel  arranged  for  the 
caller  to  go  home  in  the  motor.  She  stood  on 

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The  Right  Track 


the  piazza  with  Junior,  and  they  watched  the 
car  glide  down  the  incline  and  enter  the  elm 
avenue.  Miss  Shanklin  was  leaning  back  luxu- 
riously in  the  tonneau. 

"I  do  declare,"  she  thought.  "Jim  don't 
have  much  luck  with  his  wives.  Looks  to  me  as 
if  that  woman  was  goin'  into  a  decline.  I  '11  bet 
Lucretia  thinks  so  too,  with  her  eggnogs." 

Junior  gazed  reflectively  after  the  motor. 

"I  hope  she  won't  come  any  more,"  he  re- 
marked. 

"Why  is  that,  dear?"  asked  Mabel. 

"She  makes  a  wet  spot  on  my  cheek  when 
she  kisses  me.  She  did  it  yesterday,  too." 

Mabel  smiled  and  pressed  him  to  her. 

"That's  better  than  leaving  a  hurt  spot  in 
your  heart,"  she  answered. 

"She  can't  get  at  my  heart,"  returned  the 
child  stoutly. 

"That's  the  best  way,"  said  Mabel.  "We 
must  n't  let  people  get  at  our  hearts  too  easily." 

After  supper  that  night,  Uncle  Victor,  who 
had  been  busy  all  day  with  his  orchard  plans, 
took  them  out  in  the  motor-boat,  Lucretia  and 
Bessie  as  well,  and  they  all  watched  the  sun  set 
behind  the  winding  reaches  of  the  little  tree- 
bordered  lake. 

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Guten  Abend,  Gute  Nacht 

Junior  led  them  home  through  the  singing 
grove,  but  the  breeze  had  gone  down  with  the 
sun  and  Uncle  Victor  professed  great  incredu- 
lity as  to  the  wonder-tales  his  companions  re- 
lated. 

"But  you  must  believe  the  word  of  a  gentle- 
man!" said  Junior  with  flushed  cheeks. 

"True,  true,"  replied  Victor.  "  I  forgot  that." 

"And  to-morrow,"  added  Mabel,  "we  will 
bring  him  and  let  him  hear  for  himself.  Let's 
climb  all  the  trees,  Junior,  till  we  find  the  fairy 
chorus  perching  in  the  branches  and  fluttering 
their  little  rainbow  wings." 

"We  never  can  see  them,"  declared  Junior 
with  conviction.  "They  just  fan  our  cheeks 
and  —  and  puff  all  around,  and  — "A  tremen- 
dous yawn  finished  his  sentence. 

Victor  looked  at  his  sister,  a  pale,  smiling 
wraith,  moving  among  the  trees.  She  did  not 
seem  liable  to  climb  them.  She  led  her  little  boy 
to  the  house  and  up  to  the  nursery.  The  asso- 
ciations of  the  pretty  room  beset  Junior,  as  they 
entered. 

"Camilla  will  be  here  to-morrow  night,"  he 
said. 

A  large  smiling  doll  sat  in  one  of  the  chairs 
clad  in  her  nightdress. 

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The  Right  Track 


"Camilla  didn't  have  time  to  dress  Miss 
Rosalind  this  morning/'  he  remarked. 

"You  should  have  asked  me  if  you  wanted 
your  doll  dressed,"  said  Mabel. 

"She  isn't  mine,"  responded  the  little  boy 
quickly.  "I  gave  her  to  Camilla.  I'm  seven, 
you  know." 

"Surely.  Well,  she's  very  pretty.  I'm  sure 
Camilla  enjoys  her." 

"She  does.  She  hugs  her  and  kisses  her,"  re- 
marked Junior,  endeavoring  to  speak  loftily. 

"Why,  you  dear  Miss  Rosalind,  you've  been 
neglected  to-day,"  and  Mabel  took  up  the  doll 
and  held  it  mother-wise  against  her  breast, 
pressing  her  pale  cheek  to  the  hard  roses  in  the 
bisque  face. 

Junior  looking  on  with  interest  yawned  again 
prodigiously. 

Mabel  put  the  doll  back  in  the  chair. 

"What  lovely  windows  you  have,  dear!" 
She  approached  and  looked  out  on  the  moonlit 
sward  and  the  heavy  foliage  of  the  full-leafed 
avenue. 

Junior  remembered  Camilla's  comments  and 
directions  as  to  how  he  should  entertain  Mama- 
bel. 

"Yes,  the  dew  is  coming  down  out  there," 
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Guten  Abend,  Gute  Nacht 

he  explained,  joining  Mabel  at  the  window. 
"Do  you  see  those  fireflies  in  the  meadow? 
They're  hanging  the  dewdrops  on  all  the  grass, 
and  in  the  morning  when  the  sun  rises,  it'll 
sparkle  like  everything.  You'll  see." 

"Don't  we  live  in  a  wonderful  place!"  said 
Mabel,  beginning  to  undress  the  child,  her 
unaccustomed  fingers  assisted  by  his  direc- 
tions. 

When  at  last  he  stood  in  his  little  pajamas, 
he  ran  to  the  Victrola  and  pulled  out  a  familiar 
record. 

"What  are  you  going  to  play,  Junior?" 
Mabel  dreaded  the  music.  All  the  potentialities 
for  happiness  here  made  her  lot  seem  the  harder. 

"The  good-night  song,"  he  replied,  winding 
the  machine  and  placing  needle  and  record  with 
experienced  swiftness. 

Mabel  moved  to  the  window  and  rested  her 
brow  against  the  sash.  Madam  Schumann- 
Heinck's  warm,  gracious  voice  filled  the  still, 
softly  lighted  room  with  the  familiar  song. 
There  was  promise  of  peace  in  that  "Guten 
Abend,  Gute  Nacht." 

Trust  on.  Be  not  afraid.  Only  believe.  It 
seemed  to  Mabel  the  vast  starlit  sky  and  the 
quiet  harmonies  were  touching  her  with  a  com- 

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The  Right  Track 


fort  in  which  the  excitement  she  dreaded  could 
find  no  place. 

When  the  song  was  finished,  she  turned  to 
Junior,  who  was  perched  on  the  edge  of  his  bed. 

"Do  you  say  your  prayers  now?"  she  asked. 

"Yes.  To  Camilla,  I  do." 

"I'd  like  you  to  let  me  hear  them  if  you 
don't  mind." 

"All  right,"  replied  Junior,  yawning  again. 

He  said  his  prayer  and  then  jumped  into 
bed. 

"Do  you  want  to  hear  my  verses,  too?"  he 
asked  in  a  generous  mood. 

"Yes,  dear.   What  verses?" 

"It  was  when  I  thought  there  were  things 
to  be  afraid  of,"  explained  Junior.  "Camilla 
taught  them  to  me,  so  I  could  say  them  before 
I  went  to  sleep.  She  likes  to  have  me  say  them 
always,  but,  of  course,  I  know  now  that  God 's 
in  the  room  all  the  time,  and  nothing  bad  can 
get  in." 

Mabel  lay  down  on  Camilla's  bed,  and  came 
close  to  the  child. 

"Tell  me  the  verses,  dear.  There's  nothing 
I  want  so  much  as  not  to  be  afraid." 

"All  right.  There's  two  of  them."  Junior 
paused  again  to  yawn  widely. 

380 


Guten  Abend,  Gute  Nacht 

"You  can  learn  them  yourself,  Mamabel,  and 
then  you  won't  be  afraid." 

He  began:  — 

" '  Fear  thou  not,  for  I  am  with  thee.  Be  not 
afraid,  for  I  am  thy  God.  I  will  help  thee;  yea, 
I  will  strengthen  thee;  yea,  I  will  uphold  thee 
with  the  right  hand  of  my  righteousness." 

The  child's  voice  paused,  then  went  on :  — 

"'For  God  has  not  given  us  the  spirit  of 
fear,  but  of  power,  and  of  love,  and  of  a  sound 
mind.' 

"  Can't  you  learn  those,  Mamabel  ? "  he  asked 
sleepily. 

She  made  some  response;  then  she  felt  Junior 
move  restlessly  and  half  raise  himself  from  the 
bed,  looking  out  into  the  room. 

"What  do  you  want,  dear?" 

"Oh  —  nothing,"  he  answered,  dropping 
back  on  the  pillow.  After  a  little  hesitation  he 
added:  "Miss  Rosalind  usually  goes  to  sleep  in 
Camilla's  bed." 

"Oh,  yes,"  returned  Mabel  readily,  "and  she 
has  had  very  little  attention  to-day." 

She  rose  and,  getting  the  doll,  brought  it  to 
the  little  boy,  who  turned  his  face  to  the  wall, 
to  accent  his  indifference  to  childish  things. 
Mabel  leaned  over  and  kissed  his  cheek  and  he 

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The  Right  Track 


turned  back  and,  putting  his  arms  around  her 
neck,  kissed  her  heartily.  She  slipped  the  doll 
into  the  bed,  and  moved  away,  to  the  moon- 
lighted window. 

Junior  fell  asleep  promptly,  but  when  Mabel 
herself  was  ready  for  bed,  she  found  his  arm 
around  the  rosy  doll. 


CHAPTER  XXV 

A  WAY   OUT 

CAMILLA  returned  the  next  afternoon.  Vic- 
tor, who  with  Junior  had  driven  to  the  station 
to  meet  the  train,  looked  beyond  her  as  she  de- 
scended to  the  platform. 

"Elaine  did  n't  come?"  he  asked,  displeased. 

"No.  Mr.  Walmsley  persuaded  her  to  stay 
over  for  the  couple  of  days  that  the  house  is  still 
to  be  open." 

"Walmsley?  What  Walmsley?" 

Camilla,  endeavoring  to  straighten  herself 
from  Junior's  strangle  hold,  was  struck  by  the 
fierceness  of  the  young  man's  tone. 

"Mr.  Ben  Walmsley  is  his  name." 

Victor's  frown  was  Jove-like  and  he  stood 
still  on  the  platform,  holding  Camilla's  suit- 
case. 

"I  didn't  know  they  were  friends,"  he  an- 
nounced. 

"It  seems  that  they've  known  each  other 
from  childhood,"  said  Camilla.  "His  mother  is 
one  of  Mr.  Barnes's  closest  friends." 

Victor  looked  over  the  speaker's  head  at  a 

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The  Right  Track 


series  of  mental  pictures  in  which  Ben  Walms- 
ley  figured  conspicuously.  They  were  unpleasing 
pictures  and  he  condemned  them  sweep  ingly, 
especially  in  connection  with  a  young,  innocent 
girl  like  Elaine  Barnes.  The  irritating  feature 
of  the  memories  was  that  reminiscence  revealed 
himself  neck  and  neck  with  Ben  in  all  of  these 
mental  canvases. 

"Aren't  we  going  home,  Uncle  Victor?" 
asked  Junior,  clinging  to  Camilla's  hand  and 
hopping  up  and  down  with  satisfaction. 

"Yes,  yes,  of  course,"  returned  Victor,  com- 
ing to  himself  and  leading  the  way  to  the 
car. 

Camilla  and  Junior  sat  in  the  back  where  the 
child  answered  his  friend's  questions  and  re- 
counted his  success  in  the  role  of  the  only  son. 

"And  I  did  make  Mamabel  have  a  good 
time,"  he  said.  "She  only  talked  error  once." 

Camilla  listened  attentively  to  all.  "What 
error?"  she  asked. 

"  She  said  she  wanted  to  lie  down  under  the 
lilies  and  rest  where  grandpa  and  grandma  are, 
side  of  the  woods." 

Camilla  caught  her  lip  with  her  teeth.  She 
was  still  working  against  the  bitter  disappoint- 
ment of  her  failure  to  influence  James  Barnes. 

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A  Way  Out 


"Dear  Mamabel,"  she  breathed. 

"But  she  was  sorry  afterward,"  went  on 
Junior;  "and  we  talked  about  happiness  —  and 
—  and  carrots,  and  everything  like  that." 

"Carrots?" 

"Yes,  for  the  rabbits  when  they're  jumping 
around  on  the  snow  next  winter.  We're  going 
to  take  them  a  Thanksgiving  dinner." 

Camilla  nodded.  Her  face  was  grave.  She 
had  so  hoped  to  bring  comfort  and  reassurance 
to  the  young  wife. 

Upon  arrival  at  the  house,  Mabel's  eyes  ques- 
tioned her  as  she  had  known  they  would;  but 
all  during  supper  Camilla  talked  cheerfully  of 
generalities,  detailing  only  what  she  had  done 
toward  closing  the  house. 

"So  Elaine  will  brave  the  heat  and  dust  a 
few  days  longer  and  stay  with  her  father,"  said 
Mabel. 

"Yes,"  replied  Camilla;  "there  are  some  very 
good  evening  concerts  in  the  park,  and  Mr. 
Walmsley  likes  to  take  her  out  in  his  machine." 

"Oh,  that  very  nice  young  Walmsley,"  said 
Mabel. 

Victor,  who  had  maintained  a  stony  silence 
so  far  throughout  the  meal,  suddenly  flared 
into  life. 

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The  Right  Track 


"Why,"  he  demanded,  "  do  you  say  that  very 
nice  young  Walmsley?" 

His  sister  glanced  up  at  him  in  surprise. 

"Why,  he's  charming,"  she  returned.  "So 
good-looking  —  like  some  Oriental  prince  in 
disguise." 

"He's  in  disguise  all  right,"  growled  Victor, 
attacking  a  big  strawberry  as  if  it  might  have 
been  the  head  of  a  rival. 

"Do  you  know  him?"  asked  Mabel. 

"Oh,  yes.  I'm  acquainted  with  the  gilded 
youth  of  the  town.  I  played  around  with  them 
a  bit  one  while." 

After  supper  Victor  walked  with  his  sister 
up  and  down  the  terrace  under  the  great 
elms. 

"Is  there  anything  between  Elaine  and 
Walmsley?"  he  asked  suddenly. 

"I  know  nothing  about  it,"  returned  Mabel. 
"The  idea  seems  to  excite  you." 

"It  does.  He  is  n't  the  right  man  for  her  at 
all." 

"It  might  please  her  father,"  said  Mabel. 
"Mrs.  Walmsley  is  such  an  old  and  valued 
friend  of  his." 

"  It  would  not  please  him,"  retorted  Victor, 
"if  he  knew  all  that  I  do.  It's  a  pleasant 

386 


A  Way  Out 


position  to  see  a  girl  you  like  going  about 
with  a  worthless  chap  and  having  to  hold  your 
tongue." 

"Oh,  it's  a  censorious  world,"  replied  Mabel. 
"We're  not  obliged  to  believe  hearsay  evidence 
about  people." 

"Eh?  What?  Hearsay?  This  is  n't  hearsay," 
declared  Victor  hotly.  "Drinking,  gambling, 
and  all  the  rest  of  it." 

His  sister  smiled  up  at  his  frowning  counte- 
nance. 

"Oh,  it's  first  hand.  You  were  an  eyewitness, 
then?" 

"Decidedly!" 

"What  were  you  doing  yourself,  dear?  Try- 
ing, to  hold  him  back?"  she  asked. 

The  gentle  irony  of  her  tone  made  color  rush 
up  to  her  brother's  brow. 

"I  don't  —  I  don't  know  that  I  was;  but  — 
but—" 

"Set  a  thief  to  catch  a  thief,"  said  Mabel, 
taking  her  brother's  arm  affectionately.  "If 
Ben  Walmsley's  no  worse  than  you  are — " 

"He  is  —  that  is,  I've  cut  it  out,"  declared 
Victor;  "and  if  Jim  kept  tab  on  me,  I'd  like 
to  know  why  he  should  n't  know  that  Ben 
Walmsley— " 

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The  Right  Track 


"Did —  did  James — "  interrupted  Mabel, 
and  stopped. 

"Yes,  he  did;  he  jumped  on  me  and  I 'm  glad 
of  it."  ' 

"  I  'm  glad,  too ! "  said  Mabel.  "What  a  good 
man  he  is." 

"Oh,  yes,  Jim's  all  right,"  agreed  Victor,  too 
absorbed  by  the  picture  of  Elaine  motoring  with 
Ben  under  the  summer  stars  to  heed  the  wist- 
ful thrill  in  his  sister's  tone.  "But  if  he  does  n't 
know,  I  can't  even  give  him  a  hint,  that's  the 
devil  of  it.  I  Ve  got  to  stand  by  and  perhaps 
see  Walmsley  entertained  out  here  and  swallow 
it  all  without  a  protest.  Any  objection  I  made 
would  be  set  down  to  jealousy." 

Mabel  looked  up  again  at  the  speaker  with 
her  slow  smile. 

"Jealousy  must  be  agony,  Victor." 

"  I  fancy  so.  I  'm  glad  I  don't  know  anything 
about  it." 

At  the  same  moment  imagination  was  pictur- 
ing Elaine's  dimple  as  she  laughed  with  Ben 
Walmsley,  her  white  veil  shielding  he*  golden 
hair,  and  his  confoundedly  handsome  black  locks 
rumpled  in  the  wind. 

"  It  might  be  well  if  you  see  things  going  that 
way  for  you  to  give  Jim  a  hint,"  he  added. 

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A  Way  Out 


Mabel's  heart  glowed  at  the  suggestion  of 
such  confidence,  and  her  sad  eyes  looked  be- 
fore her. 

"James  is  not  the  man  to  give  Elaine  to  any 
one  without  looking  him  up.  He  will  need  no 
hints  from  me.  Don't  feel  so  anxious,  Victor. 
Perhaps  Ben  has  followed  your  example.  Per- 
haps he  has  cut  it  out,  too." 

"No  simple  life  for  him,"  returned  Victor, 
with  conviction.  "I  don't  believe  it." 

His  sister  regarded  him  wistfully.  "Are  you 
being  careful?"  she  suggested.  "Elaine  is  very, 
very  pretty;  but  —  beyond  that,  what?" 

"  Smart  as  a  whip,"  rejoined  Victor  promptly. 

"Yes,  clever  enough  always  to  get  her  own 
way.  What  part  does  that  play  in  the  great 
question?" 

"What  great  question?" 

"Love  and  marriage." 

"She's  very  young,"  said  Victor  defensively. 

"Oh,  my  dear  boy,"  and  Mabel  stood  still, 
looking  up,  while  he,  flushed  and  frowning  still, 
returned  her  gaze.  "I  want  you  to  be  happy. 
One  of  us  should  be  happy.  Don't  be  blind. 
Don't  be  content  with  a  girl  who  simply  allows 
you  to  love  her.  Her  exactions  will  be  gradual, 
but  always  increasing.  At  first  only  a  garland 

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The  Right  Track 


of  flowers  will  hold  you  and  you  will  rejoice  in 
the  fragrant  captivity;  but  little  by  little  the 
flowers  will  fade  and  fall  and  you  will  see  the 
inflexible  chain  on  which  they  were  bound." 

Mabel  bowed  her  forehead  on  her  brother's 
breast  and  he  put  his  arm  around  her.  At  once 
she  regained  possession  of  herself  and  lifted 
her  head,  again  looking  in  his  eyes.  "We  know 
Elaine  so  well,"  she  added  slowly. 

"But  you  told  me  the  only  attitude  for  us  to 
hold  toward  her  was  —  was  gentleness.  I  think 
you  said  —  love." 

"Yes,  but  we  can  love  her  without  wishing 
to  possess  her.  We  can  love  her,  meanwhile 
being  willing  that  she  should  spend  her  life  with 
another." 

As  Mabel  spoke,  Camilla  appeared  on  the 
piazza.  Mabel's  heart  bounded  in  her  throat. 

"I  have  to  see  Camilla  to-night,"  she  said, 
in  a  changed  voice. 

"That's  right.  Go  on,"  returned  Victor; 
and  with  a  parting  pressure  of  his  sister's  hand 
he  moved  down  the  hillside  and  across  the  brook 
into  the  twilight  of  the  woods. 

The  two  women  moved  to  meet  one  an- 
other. 

"Junior  asleep?"  asked  Mabel,  taking  Ca- 

390 


A  Way  Out 


milla's  arm  and  sauntering  with  her  across  the 
soft  grass.  "He  has  been  teaching  me  his 
'Fear  not'  verses  to-day,  and  I've  been  saying 
them  over,  to  prepare  me  for  this  moment: 
this  first  moment  when  you  and  I  should  be 
alone  together,  Camilla." 

The  two  looked  into  one  another's  eyes,  and 
Camilla  put  her  other  hand  over  the  one  slipped 
through  her  arm. 

"Tell  me  all  about  it,"  went  on  Mabel  quietly. 
"I  know  you  and  James  talked  about  me.  Tell 
me  all.  Remember  —  fear  not." 

She  smiled ;  but  the  little  color  that  had  been 
in  her  face  fled.  She  knew  by  Camilla's  mute 
pressure  that  she  had  nothing  to  hope. 

"I  did  have  a  talk  with  him,"  replied  Ca- 
milla, "and  he  is  very  fixed  in  his  mistaken 
ideas;  but  what  are  the  ideas  of  a  mortal  in  the 
light  of  Omniscience  ?  We  have  only  to  go  back 
to  the  one  great  Principle  and  hold  our  thought 
there  to  know  that  everything  will  come  out 
right  for  us.  You  know  how  the  Bible  says, 
when  our  father  and  mother  forsake  us,  —  the 
highest,  most  unselfish  love  we  know,  —  then 
the  Lord  will  take  us  up.  Did  you  ever  read 
that  other  statement :  '  A  broken  and  a  contrite 
heart,  O  God,  Thou  wilt  not  despise '  ?  Your 


The  Right  Track 


contrite  heart,  dear  Mrs.  Barnes,  will  be  shel- 
tered, be  sure  of  it.  If  you  can  just  be  true  to 
God  and  cease  to  lean  on  a  mortal,  even  on 
your  husband,  you  will  receive  strength;  and 
at  last  happiness.  I  often  think  over:  'Eye  hath 
not  seen,  nor  ear  heard,  neither  have  entered 
into  the  heart  of  man,  the  things  which  God 
hath  prepared  for  them  that  love  Him? ' 

"You're  very  good  to  me,  Camilla."  Mabel 
spoke  calmly  as  they  walked  on.  "You're  a 
real  friend.  I  don't  know  what  I  should  have 
done  without  you;  but  I  don't  think  it  will  be 
for  long  now." 

"What  do  you  mean,  dear  child?  Do  you 
mean  you  'je  beginning  to  understand  —  and 
to  hope  —  and  to  know?" 

"The  thing  that  is  right  before  me  all  the 
time  is  that  I  am  a  burden;  that  I  accept  a  great 
deal  and  give  nothing.  Yes,  I  read  and  study, 
and  your  philosophy  is  very  beautiful.  I  believe 
it's  true,  too,  and  I  believe  that  God  is  going 
to  take  me  out  of  my  troubles." 

"Are  you  outlining?"  asked  Camilla,  trying 
to  speak  cheerfully  and  holding  the  slender  arm 
closer.  "Are  you  telling  Him  how  He  shall 
release  you?" 

"He  knows  what  I  want,  for  He  knows 
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A  Way  Out 


everything,  and  I  believe  He  is  going  to  answer 
my  prayer.  There  is  n't  any  other  way  out. 
It  would  do  away  with  all  disgrace  and  all  gos- 
sip. I'm  absolutely  unnecessary,  and  I  have 
lost  my  health,  so  I  can't  take  my  fate  into  my 
own  hands  and  be  of  use  in  the  world :  be  an  in- 
dependent woman." 

"My  dear  Mrs.  Barnes.  You  dear  young 
creature.  Have  n't  you  learned  at  least  that 
there  is  no  such  thing  as  death?" 

"Yes,  I  believe  in  immortality,  but  I  can 
hope  not  to  be  so  much  in  the  way  on  some  other 
plane.  Don't  tremble,  Camilla.  I  'm  not  going 
to  do  anything  desperate.  It's  only  that  I  see 
myself  weaker  every  day,  and  I  thank  God,  and 
love  Him  for  it,  every  lonely  night." 

Camilla  pressed  her  handkerchief  to  her  eyes 
and  kept  silence  for  a  minute.  It  was  Mabel 
now  who  patted  the  other's  hand  and  passed  an 
arm  around  her. 

"If  this  should  come  to  me,  Camilla,"  she 
went  on,  without  excitement,  "  and  it  may  come 
suddenly,  I  want  you  to  tell  James  that  I  never 
blamed  him.  He  has  never  had  a  wrong  thought 
toward  me.  We  can't  force  love.  He  is  absolutely 
not  to  blame.  I  shall  die  loving  him,  and  being 
grateful  to  him,  and  sorry  for  the  trouble  I  Ve 

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The  Right  Track 


brought  on  him;  and  so  happy  in  lifting  all  that 
trouble  away." 

The  two  women  paused  in  their  walk.  The 
stars  had  come  out.  The  insect  voices  in  mea- 
dow and  wood  were  all  that  broke  the  stillness. 

"Dear  Mrs.  Barnes,"  Camilla  looked  up  at 
her  taller  companion,  "I'm  an  ignoramus  com- 
pared to  you,  but  I  know  this:  that  'like  as  a 
Father  pitieth  his  children,  so  the  Lord  pitieth 
them  that  fear  Him.'  Look  at  that  wonderful 
sky.  Feel  the  peace  and  order  and  harmony  of 
it;  the  closeness  and  love  of  the  Creator.  'In 
Him  we  live,  and  move,  and  have  our  being'; 
so  this  perplexed  and  sorrowful  condition  which 
seems  to  be  yours  can  only  be  seeming;  else 
how  could  we  'rejoice  always,'  as  the  Bible  re- 
peatedly reminds  us  to  do?" 

"  I  'm  doing  my  best,  Camilla.  At  least  I  have 
come  to  be  as  a  little  child  with  my  hand  in  my 
Father's." 

"Be  a  happy  little  child,"  returned  Camilla 
fervently.  "Trust,  and  be  happy;  for  we  know 
we  'cannot  drift  beyond  his  love  and  care'; 
and  we  don't  know  how  soon  in  Love's  divine 
way  all  this  condition  may  be  changed  and  the 
sunrise  of  a  new  day  flood  your  life." 

"  So  be  it,  dear  Camilla ! "  said  Mabel  quietly. 


CHAPTER  XXVI 

SUNRISE 

FOR  the  next  two  weeks  James  Barnes  re- 
mained away  from  his  farm.  Then  one  day  he 
arrived  unexpectedly  at  four  o'clock  in  the  after- 
noon. He  had  succumbed  to  the  urgent  request 
of  Victor,  who  begged  for  an  interview  on  the 
ground  to  get  permission  for  certain  new  schemes 
which  would  involve  the  expenditure  of  con- 
siderable money.  His  first  inquiry  upon  arrival 
at  the  house  was  for  Junior.  On  being  told  that 
the  child  was  playing  by  the  brook,  he  betook 
himself  down  the  hillside  and  soon  saw  his 
son's  broad-brimmed  hat  making  a  halo  on  the 
back  of  his  head  as  he  lay  flat  in  the  grass,  his 
legs  kicking  in  the  air  while  he  talked  aloud, 
apparently  to  himself. 

Mr.  Barnes's  footfall  being  silent  on  the  soft 
turf,  he  drew  quite  near  before  the  boy  per- 
ceived him.  Then  with  a  whoop  of  joy  Junior 
scrambled  to  his  feet.  "It's  a  surprise,  a  sur- 
prise," he  yelled,  and  running  to  his  father  he 
leaped  to  his  arms,  clutching  the  latter's  body 
with  his  strong  little  legs. 

395 


The  Right  Track 


"Go  slow,  you  Indian,"  laughed  the  captured 
man,  standing  still  and  kissing  the  sunburned 
face. 

At  this  moment  the  newcomer  discovered 
that  his  son  was  not  alone.  On  the  rustic  seat, 
concealed  from  the  house  by  the  hazel  bushes, 
sat  his  wife  with  her  sewing.  He  followed  the 
lines  of  her  white  gown  until  he  reached  the 
face,  scarcely  less  white.  She  did  not  rise  to 
greet  him  because  it  was  a  physical  impossibility 
in  the  tremor  that  ran  through  her  at  sight  of 
him,  all  unexpected.  In  that  encounter  of  their 
eyes  James  Barnes  realized  suddenly  that  his 
wife  looked  very  ill  and  his  heart  gave  a  throb 
of  pity  for  her. 

"Oh,  you're  there,  Mabel,"  he  said,  as 
Junior  came  to  earth  and  freed  him.  "  I  thought 
the  boy  must  have  become  a  poet  and  was 
apostrophizing  the  sky  all  by  himself." 

Mr.  Barnes  approached  the  rustic  seat  and 
kissed  his  wife's  smooth  forehead. 

"We  were  n't  looking  for  you,"  she  said,  and 
her  mouth  was  dry. 

The  husband  sat  down  beside  her,  and  Junior 
stood  before  them. 

"I  did  n't  expect  to  come  for  another  week 
yet,  but  Victor  is  certainly  an  enthusiast,  and 

396 


Sunrise 


he  wants  to  hold  me  up  once  more;  then  he 
says  he'll  let  me  off  for  the  rest  of  the  sum- 


mer." 


"I'm  glad  he's  a  help  to  you,"  said  Mabel 
with  effort,  after  a  pause.  She  looked  fragile 
as  a  snow-wreath  beside  the  robust,  carefully 
dressed  man  at  her  side. 

"Well,  little  chap,"  said  James  Barnes  with 
a  shake  of  his  son's  shoulders,  "how  goes  it? 
How's  Camilla  and  Popinjay  and  Angus  and 
Pete  and  the  rest  of  your  suite?" 

"They're  all  right,"  returned  Junior,  rather 
absently;  "but,  Daddy,  I  was  just  trying  to 
decide  something  when  you  came  up;  tell  me 
which  should  you  think  I  'd  rather  have  —  a 
little  sister  or  a  little  brother?" 

"What's  this?"  inquired  James  Barnes  with 
a  short  laugh,  the  permanent  line  between  his 
brows  deepening.  "I  should  think  you  had 
enough  pets  without  wanting  to  adopt  a  play- 
fellow." 

"Oh,  this  is  n't  going  to  be  a  playfellow. 
It's  going  to  be  a  baby."  Suddenly  a  tiny  gar- 
ment fell  to  the  grass  from  the  white  folds  of  the 
gown  brushing  James  Barnes's  gray  trousers. 
Junior  picked  it  up  and  exhibited  it,  holding  it 
by  the  tiny  sleeves.  "I  thought  Mamabel  was 

397 


The  Right  Track 


making  clothes  for  Miss  Rosalind,  so  I  told 
her  she  had  plenty,  and  Camilla  could  make 


'em 


The  color  had  flooded  Mabel  Barnes's  face 
when  the  child  began  his  revelation,  and  now  it 
left  her  features  in  a  stiff  pallor.  Her  husband's 
expression  was  stony  and  his  eyes  never  swerved 
from  Junior's  face  as  the  child  delivered  his 
thunderbolt. 

The  frozen  amazement  of  his  countenance 
seemed  to  Mabel  to  deal  her  her  deathblow.  An 
awful  despair  gripped  her  heart,  and  then,  sud- 
denly, green  grass,  summer  sky,  and  waving 
foliage  all  grew  black,  and  blessed  unconscious- 
ness of  all  things  enveloped  her  senses. 

"Daddy,  Daddy!"  cried  Junior,  as  his  re- 
flective glance  wandered  to  Mamabel  and  he 
saw  her  eyes  close  and  her  head  fall  back. 

James  Barnes  turned  quickly  and  caught  his 
wife  in  his  arms,  drawing  the  dark  head  to  his 
breast. 

"She  must  n't,  Daddy,"  —  a  big  sob  caught 
in  the  child's  throat,  and  he  began  to  cry. 
"Make  her  wake  up.  Make  her!  She  wants  to 
go  under  the  lilies.  She  must  n't." 

James  Barnes's  ruddy  color  had  fled. 

"Hush,  Junior,"  he  said.    "You  must  be  a 
398 


Sunrise 


man  now,  not  a  baby.  Take  your  hat  and  bring 
it  here  full  of  water." 

The  severe  tone  steadied  the  terrified  child. 
Mamabelwas  breathing  heavily.  He  ran  trem- 
bling to  the  brook,  his  lips  repeating  the  dec- 
larations Camilla  had  taught  him,  and  was 
quickly  back  with  the  water. 

James  Barnes  bathed  the  white  forehead  and 
temples. 

"You  may  rub  her  hands,  Junior,"  he  said, 
and  the  child  rubbed  the  hands,  swallowing  big 
lumps  that  rose  in  his  throat. 

"God's  here,  anyway,  Daddy,"  he  said 
tremulously.  "God '11  take  care  of  Mamabel. 
Shall  I  —  shall  I  get  Camilla?" 

James  Barnes's  heart  was  beating  in  great 
bounds.  It  was  such  a  frail  woman  he  held  in 
his  arms.  His  immovable  plans  receiving  this 
battering  shock  to  their  stability  made  a  tu- 
mult in  his  soul  like  the  meeting  of  an  ingoing 
and  outgoing  tide.  The  little  garment,  a  white 
flake  on  the  grass,  caused  him  an  agony  of 
tenderness. 

"No,  don't  call  Camilla,"  he  said.   "Bring 


more  water." 


Junior  manfully  obeyed,  his  tears  dropping 
and  his  lips  repeating  his  "Fear  not"  ver&es. 

399 


The  Right  Track 


God  was  loving  them  all  the  time  and  He  would 
help  Daddy  to  wake  Mamabel  up. 

Again  he  held  the  hat  full  of  water  while  his 
father  bathed  her  temples .  ' £  Now,  rub  her  hands 
again,  Junior." 

The  child  obeyed,  and  presently  Mabel's  eye- 
lids quivered  and  then  opened.  Her  dark  eyes 
gazed  straight  up  into  the  gray  ones  looking 
down.  The  resolute  veil  which  had  for  months 
interposed  between  her  and  those  eyes  was 
gone. 

"My  darling,"  said  James  Barnes  softly, 
"am  I  holding  you  comfortably?" 

She  did  not  speak,  nor  did  a  muscle  of  her 
face  change.  She  just  looked,  and  looked,  not 
knowing  whether  she  were  awake. 

Her  secret,  her  sad  secret,  she  had  kept  from 
all,  even  Camilla.  It  meant  to  her  only  a  further 
binding  of  a  reluctant  husband,  and  she  could 
not  bring  herself  to  voice  it.  This  afternoon, 
however,  when  for  the  first  time  Junior  had  seen 
part  of  the  contents  of  the  workbag  which  was 
her  constant  companion,  and  commented  on  .the 
clothes  she  was  making  for  Camilla's  doll,  some 
impulse  made  her  confide  in  the  little  boy.  Per- 
haps she  knew  the  light  that  springs  in  a  child's 
eyes  at  the  prospect  of  another  child:  his  kin. 

400 


Sunrise 


Perhaps  she  longed  for  one  ray  of  brightness  to 
fall  upon  the  path  of  the  poor  little  unwelcome 
stranger.  Whatever  the  cause,  she  yielded  to 
the  impulse.  She  felt  so  ill,  so  weak  to-day, 
and  she  leaned  on  the  love  of  this  child,  James 
Barnes's  son. 

Junior  had  been  much  excited  over  the  news, 
and  had  weighed  carefully  the  pros  and  cons  of 
a  brother  who  would  like  horses  as  well  as  he 
did,  and  a  sister  who  would  have  to  do  every- 
thing he  said,  and  of  whom  he  should  take 
care.  His  father  had  interrupted  the  argu- 
ment, and  terrifying  things  had  come  to  pass. 

He  gazed  now  at  his  stepmother  with  wide, 
wet  eyes. 

"What  did  yon  go  to  sleep  for,  Mamabel?" 
he  asked  accusingly,  still  swallowing  sobs.  "My 
hat's  spoiled." 

"You've  been  a  good  boy,"  said  his  father 
quietly.  "You  may  run  away  now  and  find 
Camilla  and  get  her  all  alone  somewhere  and 
shut  the  door  and  tell  her  the  precious  secret; 
and  get  her  to  help  you  decide  whether  you 
want  a  brother  or  a  sister.  Don't  let  any  one 
else  hear  you,  though." 

Junior  paused  a  moment,  but  the  prospect 
thus  held  out  was  enticing;  so  he  took  his 

401 


The  Right  Track 


bedraggled  hat,  a  recent  insistence  of  Camilla's 
on  account  of  extreme  sunburn,  and  started  to 
run  up  the  hill. 

"What  a  good  man  James  is,"  thought 
Mabel  apathetically.  She  was  not  yet  prepared 
to  be  certain  that  events  were  actual. 

"My  darling,  are  you  comfortable?"  asked 
James  Barnes  again. 

An  intense  tenderness  shone  down  into  the 
dark  eyes  that  never  left  his  face. 

She  felt  his  strong  arms  around  her  like  the 
fulfilling  of  weary  longing;  but  it  did  not  occur 
to  her  to  answer  him.  It  did  not  occur  to  her 
that  this  new  James  Barnes  could  hear  her  alien 
voice  —  if  she  had  a  voice.  She  was  not  sure 
that  she  had. 

"  I  thought  I  knew  how  much  I  loved  you, 
dear,"  he  said,  "but  I  did  not  know  till  now." 

He  saw  her  eyelids  quiver,  and  he  drew  her 
closer,  speaking  slowly. 

"Darling,  tell  me;  can  you  forgive  all  my 
mistakes?  Do  you  like  to  be  in  my  arms?" 

Supposing  he  should  withdraw  them!  She 
found  her  voice. 

"Yes,"  came  from  her  pale,  unsmiling  lips. 

"And  in  our  child  we  shall  come  closer.  You 
shall  find  me  more  worthy  than  you  have 

402 


Sunrise 


before.   I  love  you  with  my  whole  being,  my 
darling." 

He  was  pouring  wine  and  oil  into  her  wounds, 
and  she  began  to  revive,  and  to  know  wonder- 
ingly  that  this  was  real,  and  to  return  from  a 
far  country. 

She  lifted  her  hand  and  put  it  over  'his  lips. 
The  little  frail  hand.  He  kissed  it  passionately; 
then  lifted  her  head  higher  and  rested  his  cheek 
against  that  dark  coronet  of  hair. 

"I  —  I  hope  I  can  stay,  James,"  she  mur- 
mured slowly.  "I've  prayed  so  to  go.  Do  you 
think  God  will  let  me  take  it  back?" 

A  chill  penetrated  to  the  man's  heart.  Ca- 
milla had  been  right.  He  had  been  stupidly, 
doggedly  wrong. 

"I'm  going  to  see  to  it  that  you  stay,  my 
beloved,"  he  answered  with  conviction.  "You 
would  n't  go  just  when  you  have  crowned  my 
life.  My  wife  loves  me.  That's  all  I  need,  to 
be  the  happiest  man  on  earth.  Stay  ?  Why,  I  'm 
going  to  breathe  for  you  as  nearly  as  I  can  until 
you  are  strong  again.  Now,  sweetheart,  I'm 
going  to  carry  you  up  to  the  house." 

For  the  first  time  a  smile  touched  his  wife's 
lips.  "I  feel  so  much  better,  James.  I'm  sure 
I  can  walk.  I'm  perfectly  able  to  walk." 

4°3 


The  Right  Track 


James  Barnes  picked  up  the  bit  of  fine 
flannel  from  the  grass.  There  was  not  a  sound 
but  the  brook's  gurgle  for  a  minute,  while  his 
strong  hand  pressed  the  little  garment  to  his 
eyes.  Then  he  tucked  it  into  the  workbag,  while 
Mabel  slowly  sat  up. 

"Don't  move,  dear.  I  'm  going  to  carry  you." 

"But  it  will  frighten  Camilla." 

"You  shall  walk  in  a  few  days,"  rejoined 
James  Barnes;  and  he  lifted  his  wife  carefully. 
She  put  her  arm  around  his  neck  and  he  carried 
her  easily,  too  easily,  up  the  hill. 

She  had  had  breakfast  in  bed  that  morning, 
but  appeared  at  dinner,  and  Camilla  had  es- 
corted her  with  cushions  down  to  the  seat  among 
the  hazel  bushes.  Her  decline  had  been  gradual 
to  those  with  her  in  the  house,  but  that  morning 
Lucretia  had  told  Camilla  her  fears,  and  rare 
tears  had  blurred  her  vision  as  she  spoke :  — 

"  Is  everybody  blind  but  me  ? "  she  demanded 
crossly.  "  I  'd  like  to  know  why  Mr.  Ford  don't 
insist  on  having  a  doctor  see  his  sister.  She's 
just  slippin'  away,  Camilla.  What's  the  mat- 
ter with  everybody  that  they  can't  see  it?" 

Camilla's  steady  eyes  looked  far  off.  "I've 
been  thinking  of  this,  too,"  she  answered,  "and 
asking  God  to  show  me  what  to  do." 

404 


Sunrise 


Lucretia  snorted  with  exasperation.  "Heaven 
helps  those  that  help  themselves,"  she  declared. 
"It  don't  need  the  Creator  to  show  me  that 
you'd  ought  to  have  Dr.  Whittaker  up  here 
this  very  day." 

Dr.  Whittaker  had  vaccinated  Camilla  when 
she  was  a  schoolgirl.  He  still  believed  in  calomel 
and  still  took  snuff.  The  picture  of  the  old  gen- 
tleman ministering  to  Mabel's  mortal  sorrow 
made  Camilla  smile  at  Lucretia  to  the  latter's 
added  exasperation. 

"Well,  if  you  think  you  know  it  all,  get  some- 
body else,  then;  but  for  the  land's  sake,  do 
something,"  snapped  Lucretia. 

"I'm  going  to,"  returned  Camilla,  sober 
enough  now.  "I'm  going  to  write  Mr.  Barnes 
to-day.  I'll  tell  him  what  you've  just  said." 

"  Between  you  and  me  and  the  lamp-post,  I 
believe  he 's  at  the  bottom  of  it,"  said  Lucretia  in 
a  lowered  and  savage  tone.  "  She  don't  cough, 
nor  seem  to  have  any  straight-forward  disease 
that  a  body  can  tackle.  I've  always  noticed 
something  queer,  now,  have  n't  you,  Camilla?" 

"That  is  n't  our  business,  Lucretia." 

"Get  out!  I'd  make  it  my  business  if  I  was 
as  close  to  'em  as  you  are.  It  does  seem  some- 
times as  if  men  was  the  off-scourin's  o'  the  earth. 

405 


The  Right  Track 


Great,  big,  selfish,  strappin'  things.  What  did 
Barnes  want  to  harness  that  girl  up  to  him 
for  if  he  didn't  care  for  her?  It  don't  seem 
possible,  but  lots  o'  times  I've  thought  he 
neglected  her;  yes,  sir,  I've  thought  she  felt 
neglected!" 

"Lucretia,  you  don't  understand,"  returned 
Camilla  earnestly;  "truly,  you  don't  under- 
stand!" 

"I  s'pose  you  do,  then,"  sneered  Lucretia, 
"and  just  stand  by  smilin',  and  lettin'  her  slide 
down  and  down  till  finally  she 's  out.  Go  ahead 
and  write  to  Jim  Barnes.  Let's  get  him  here 
and  I'll  see  how  much  you  talk  to  him;  and  if 
you  don't  come  out  strong,  I  tell  you  I  '11  take 
a  hand,  —  or  mebbe  it'll  be  a  foot.  It'd  give 
me  some  satisfaction  to  kick  him  all  around  this 
farm,  and  I  cal'late  to  do  it  if  he  don't  wake  up 
and  tend  to  his  business." 

Camilla  smiled  sadly.  "I'll  write  to  him, 
Lucretia.  I  think  myself  he  ought  to  come." 

She  was  just  sealing  the  envelope  on  this 
carefully  constructed  letter  that  afternoon 
when  Junior  broke  in  upon  her.  In  his  hand 
he  carried  a  drenched  hat.  He  slammed  the 
nursery  door  and  Camilla  looked  up  from  her 
desk. 

406 


Sunrise 


"What  happened  to  your  hat?"  she  asked. 

The  child's  eyes  were  still  big  with  excitement 
and  his  cheeks  were  spotted  with  tears. 

Camilla  suddenly  realized  this  and  pushed 
her  chair  back  and  held  out  her  hand. 

"  What  is  it,  dear  ?  Did  you  fall  in  the  water  ? " 

"Where's  Lucretia  and  Bessie  and  Pete  and 
Uncle  Victor  and  Sister?"  demanded  Junior. 

"Downstairs  or  out  doors.  What  do  you 
mean?" 

"Are  we  all  alone?  —  'cause  Daddy  says  no- 
body else  must  hear." 

Camilla  drew  him  to  her,  and  he  had  never 
seen  her  look  so  interested  about  anything.  It 
was  quite  worth  while  having  a  secret  to  tell 
somebody  who  looked  like  this. 

"  Daddy !  What  do  you  mean !  Is  your  father 
here,  Junior?" 

"Of  course,  he  is. 

"Where  is  he?" 

"Down  by  the  brook  with  Mamabel." 

Camilla's  heart  beat  faster.  She  could  see 
that  her  little  boy  was  quivering  and  striving 
for  self-control. 

i  "We  didn't  expect  him,  did  we?"  she  said 
quietly.  The  wet  hat  had  fallen  to  the  floor  and 
both  Junior's  hands  were  in  Camilla's  familiar 

407 


The  Right  Track 


clasp.   "Did   Mamabel  expect  him,    do   you 
think?" 

The  boy  compressed  his  lips  and  shook  his 
head.  "No;  'cause  when  I  told  him  about  the 
baby  she  got  awful  white  —  and  —  and  did 
error — "  he  swallowed — "and  went  to  sleep, 
and  I  had  to  get  water  in  my  hat  —  and  —  rub 
her  hands  —  and  — " 

It  was  no  use;  the  love  and  excitement  in 
Camilla's  usually  tranquil  eyes,  the  sympathy, 
the  absorption,  were  too  much.  The  little  boy 
threw  his  arms  around  her,  buried  his  face  in 
her  neck,  and  struggled  with  sobs. 

"Yes,  darling,  it's  all  right,"  said  Camilla 
soothingly,  utterly  unable  to  see  through  the 
mist  that  veiled  her  own  sight.  She  patted  the 
child,  his  wet  cheek  pressed  to  hers. 

"And  Mamabel  is  all  right  now?"  she  asked 
at  last,  with  a  reassuring  note  of  cheerfulness 
that  stuck  in  her  throat. 

"Yes  —  'cause  I  —  waked  her  up  and  —  and 
she  —  she  spoiled  my  hat,"  sobbed  Junior  with 
characteristic  masculine  resentment  at  having 
been  dragged  through  a  disturbing  scene. 

"There  are  lots  of  hats,"  soothed  Camilla. 
"Wasn't  it  good  that  you  could  help  Mama- 
bel?1 Did  —  did  Daddy  help  her,  too?" 

408 


Sunrise 


Camilla  felt  the  quiet  question  to  be  crucial. 

"Of  course."  The  child  began  to  gain  con- 
trol of  himself.  "Daddy  held  her  in  his  arms 
and  rubbed  her  face,  but  I "  —  a  deep  sob  — "  I 
had  to  keep  running  to  the  brook." 

"That's  right,  darling.  I  'm  so  glad  you  were 
there  to  help.  You  said  —  what  did  you  say 
a  minute  ago  about  a  baby?" 

Junior  strove  with  himself.  He,  the  big 
brother  of  an  impending  helpless  creature, 
should  not  be  weeping  in  Camilla's  neck  when 
he  announced  his  secret.  Mamabel  had  said 
that  it  was  a  secret  when  she  told  him.  Daddy 
had  warned  him  that  it  was  a  secret  that  Ca- 
milla only  was  to  hear. 

He  straightened  up  and  assumed  as  well  as 
he  could  what  he  considered  a  suitable  air. 

"You're  not  to  tell  anybody,"  he  warned, 
swallowing  a  tardy  sob. 

"No,  no,"  promised  Camilla,  pressing  her 
hands  together,  and  looking  at  him  with  just 
such  an  expression  as  one  could  wish  for  the  re- 
ception of  one's  news. 

"We're  going  to  have  a  baby,"  announced 
Junior,  with  superior  calm.  "I  haven't  de- 
cided," he  added,  "whether  it's  going  to  be  a 
boy  or  a  girl." 

409 


The  Right  Track 


Camilla  caught  at  his  hands. 

"When  did  Mamabel  tell  you  this?" 

"Today,  just  before  Daddy  came." 

"And  you  told  him?" 

Junior  pulled  his  hands  away.  He  was  not  in 
a  hand-squeezing  mood. 

"Yep.  I  wanted  him  to  help  me  decide  about 
brothers  and  sisters." 

"Did  it  surprise  him?" 

"Yep." 

"Was  he  glad?  Junior,  dear,  was  he  glad?" 

"How  do  I  know  when  Mamabel  did  error 
right  away?" 

"Junior,  precious,  tell  me  one  thing."  Ca- 
milla leaned  toward  the  child  with  shining  eyes, 
and  spoke  pleadingly.  "Try  to  think  just  what 
happened.  Do  you  think  Daddy  felt  —  felt 
displeased  with  Mamabel  for  —  for  planning 
a  little  brother  for  you?" 

"  I  have  n't  decided  on  a  brother,"  Junior 
reminded  her  severely. 

"Well,  a  sister;  either  one,"  urged  Camilla. 
"Did  Daddy  seem  —  well,  happy?" 

"  I  guess  he  was  n't  very  happy  with  Mama- 
bel acting  that  way;  but  he  kept  calling  her 
Marling,'  and  hugging  her;  so  he  was  n't  cross, 
I  guess." 

410 


Sunrise 


Camilla  amazed  her  companion  by  flinging 
herself  suddenly  around  to  the  desk  and  bury- 
ing her  face  in  the  curve  of  her  arm.  She  held 
herself  motionless  while  Junior  regarded  her. 
What  was  the  matter  with  grown-up  ladies  that 
made  them  act  so  strangely! 

He  frowned  and  took  a  step  nearer. 

"Now,  you're  doing  error,  Camilla,"  he 
declared.  Her  shoulders  shook  a  little.  "What's 
the  matter?"  he  demanded.  "Are  you  afraid 
you  '11  have  to  take  care  of  it  ?  I  'm  going  to  take 
all  the  care  of  it.  I  'm  going  down  to  the  station 
with  Pete  to  meet  the  train,  and  I  'm  going  to 
carry  it  in  my  arms,  and  nobody's  going  to 
touch  it  but  me." 

At  this  Camilla  lifted  her  head  and  regarded 
him.  His  words  must  have  been  very  reassuring, 
for  in  her  happiest  moods  he  had  never  seen 
her  look  so  radiant.  Junior  sighed  with  relief. 

She  took  a  freshly  addressed  letter  from  her 
desk  and  tore  it  in  small  pieces. 

"Let's  go  downstairs,"  she  said  with  her  most 
charming,  mysterious  air  of  happiness;  "let's 
go  down  and  see  if  they're  coming." 

"That  is  n't  any  use,"  returned  Junior  loft- 
ily. "My  little  baby  won't  get  here  till  the 
leaves  turn  red." 

411 


The  Right  Track 


"But  let's  go,  anyway.  I  want  to  get  out  on 
the  grass  and  dance!" 

Camilla  was  nice  and  silly  again.  Junior 
liked  her  that  way  best;  and  he  laughed, 
and  clattered  downstairs  after  her  with  a  will. 


CHAPTER  XXVII 

THE  ANGEL'S  NAME 

WHAT  Camilla  saw  when  she  reached  the 
porch  made  her  heart  stand  still  a  moment,  and 
Junior  caught  her  dress  and  forgot  his  big 
brotherhood  sufficiently  to  shrink  behind  her. 

Daddy  was  coming  up  the  hill  with  Mama- 
bel  in  his  arms.  Had  she  gone  to  sleep  again! 

But  as  Mr.  Barnes  came  nearer  they  saw  him 
smile  at  his  burden,  and  Camilla  ran  down  the 
steps,  followed  more  slowly  by  the  little  boy. 

"You  surprised  us,"  she  said,  rather  breath- 
lessly, beaming  at  the  master  of  the  house. 

"Yes ;  Victor  played  the  role  of  my  good  angel 
this  time,  and  brought  me.  I  think  you  might 
have  told  me,  Camilla,  that  my  wife  was  not 
so  well." 

Camilla  regarded  him,  demurely,  under  the 
rebuke.  He  was  a  man  and,  therefore,  must 
put  the  blame  somewhere.  He  mounted  the 
steps  and  was  tenderly  depositing  Mabel  in  a 
wicker  reclining-chair,  just  as  Lucretia  appeared 
around  the  corner  of  the  house  with  a  glass  on  a 
tray.  Her  eyes  flashed  at  sight  of  him. 


The  Right  Track 


"What  is  it,  eh?"  she  asked  in  a  frightened 
voice,  her  eyes  on  Mrs.  Barnes  as  she  hurried 
up  the  steps  at  a  pace  which  imperiled  the  egg- 
nog. 

James  Barnes  encountered  her  belligerent 
look  and  it  gave  him  a  sense  of  well-deserved 
condemnation. 

Mabel,  her  head  resting  back  on  the  chintz 
cushion,  smiled  at  her. 

"Nothing,  Lucretia,  except  that  my  husband 
is  joining  you  in  making  a  baby  of  me,"  she 
replied. 

"H'm!"  ejaculated  Lucretia,  and  again 
James  Barnes  received  meekly  her  fiery  glance, 
which  spoke  plainer  than  the  words  would  have 
done  which  she  halted  on  the  end  of  her  tongue. 
"Drink  this,"  she  said  curtly,  offering  her  little 
tray. 

"Lucretia  is  the  kindest  creature,  James. 
She  follows  me  around  all  day  with  these  deli- 
cious things;  but  I  don't  believe  I  can  drink  it 
just  now,  Lucretia,"  finished  Mabel  apologeti- 
cally. 

"Yes,  you  can,  dear,"  said  her  husband,  pull- 
ing up  a  small  chair  beside  her  and  speaking  with 
a  tone  and  expression  which  caused  Lucretia's 
severe  mien  to  change  while  she  watched  him. 

414 


The  Angel's  Name 


"I'll  drink  it  for  you,  Mamabel,"  offered 
Junior,  hastening  up  to  her. 

"Run  away,  scamp,"  said  his  father,  absently 
pushing  the  child  aside,  and  taking  the  glass 
under  Lucretia's  round  gaze. 

He  held  it  to  his  wife's  lips. 

"Haven't  you  any  straws?"  he  demanded 
impatiently  of  Lucretia. 

She  resented  his  frown.  "We  don't  feed  'em 
to  sick  folks  up  this  way,"  she  retorted.  "He 
does  well  to  frown  at  me!"  she  thought  wrath- 
fully. 

"To  drink  through,"  he  explained.  "Have 
you  a  glass  tube?" 

"No.  The  Metcalfs  had  one,  but  they  took 
it  with  'em." 

Camilla  stood  motionless,  with  beaming  eyes, 
watching  James  Barnes  supporting  Mabel's 
cushions  with  deft  hand,  and  lifting  her  so  she 
could  drink.  "Don't  hurry,"  he  said  tenderly. 
"Drink  slowly." 

Lucretia  looked  on.  "He's  good  and  scared," 
she  thought.  "Serves  him  right.  If  I  didn't 
think  so  much  of  her  I  'd  like  to  have  her  die  to 
spite  him." 

Camilla  smiled,  watching  Lucretia's  face. 

While  the  group  was  thus  situated,  Elaine 
415 


The  Right  Track 


and  Victor  approached  from  the  orchard.  He 
was  bareheaded  and  she  swinging  her  hat  by  a 
ribbon. 

"Why,  it's  Daddy,"  exclaimed  the  girl.  "He 
did  come,  then." 

Victor  ran  up  the  steps,  noting  the  devotional 
attitude  of  his  brother-in-law  with  surprise. 
"Mighty  glad  you  could  make  it,  Jim,"  he  said, 
while  his  questioning  eyes  regarded  his  sister. 

"Dear  old  Daddy,"  cried  Elaine,  tripping 
near  and  placing  a  butterfly  kiss  on  his  temple. 
He  did  not  look  at  the  newcomers. 

"Howdy,"  he  said,  absently,  his  attention 
concentrated  on  the  half-empty  glass. 

"That's  all,  please,  James,"  said  Mabel, 
looking  up  at  him  pleadingly. 

"Very  well,  dear,"  was  the  reply;  but  the  tone 
of  it  caused  Victor  to  forget  his  farming  schemes, 
and  Elaine  to  purse  her  lips  and  look  around  at 
him  slowly. 

James  Barnes  handed  the  glass  to  Lucretia, 
eased  his  wife's  head  back  on  the  chintz  pillow, 
and  settling  again  in  the  chair  close  beside  and 
facing  her,  he  took  her  hand  in  his,  and  kept  his 
eyes  on  her  face  as  he  talked. 

"I  want  you  to  go  to  town  for  me  in  the 
morning,  Victor." 


The  Angel's  Name 


"Right  O,"  returned  that  pleased  and  re- 
lieved young  man. 

"I  want  you  to  bring  men  out  with  you  to 
screen  this  porch." 

"I  don't  suppose  I'll  be  able  to  get  them 
at  once,"  remarked  Victor;  "it's  the  busy 
time." 

"You  must  get  them  at  once.  Mabel  will 
sleep  out  here." 

"Then,  Daddy,"  said  Elaine,  "if  Mamabel 
is  n't  going  to  use  her  room,  Ben  can  come." 

"No,  Ben  can't  come  just  now.  Wait  till 
August." 

"It  will  be  too  hot  for  anybody  to  stay  here 
in,  August,"  objected  Elaine. 

"Then  Elm  Farm  will  have  to  remain  an  arid, 
Benless  wilderness,"  remarked  James  Barnes 
dryly. 

Victor  gave  Elaine  a  malicious  look,  and  she 
made  a  grimace  at  him.  She  had  been  finding 
much  entertainment  in  holding  Ben  Walmsley 
over  the  amateur  farmer's  head  for  the  past  two 
weeks,  soon  making  the  discovery  that  her  old 
friend  was  an  unwelcome  subject  of  conversa- 
tion. 

Elaine  stared  at  her  father's  back.  He  had  not 
looked  at  her  once.  The  delicate  symmetry  of 

417 


The  Right  Track 


her  stepmother's  face  against  the  rose  chintz 
apparently  absorbed  him. 

"What  has  happened,  I  wonder?"  she 
thought. 

"I  hate  to  be  away  all  day  to-morrow,  Jim," 
said  Victor.  "It's  so  hard  to  corral  you,  and 
you  're  liable  to  slip  off  before  I  Ve  said  my  say. 
I  want  to  show  you  by  daylight." 

"You  shall  show  me  by  daylight." 

"Are  things  quieter  in  the  city?" 

"No,  buzzing.  I  expected  to  go  back  early 
to-morrow  morning." 

"Well,  Elaine  's  as  good  a  driver  as  I  am; 
better  for  this  purpose.  She'll  smile  on  the 
screen  men  and  they'll  follow  her  willy-nilly. 
Send  her  instead  of  me." 

"No,  I  want  you  to  go.  I  shall  have  a  long 
list  of  things  for  you  to  attend  to." 

"And  then  you  leave  the  next  morning,"  said 
Victor  aggrieved. 

"No.   I'm  not  going  back." 

"What?" 

"I'm  not  going  back." 

"Not  at  all?" 

"Well,  I  may  spend  a  portion  of  my  old  age 
in  the  city." 

Victor  and  Elaine  exchanged  another  look. 


The  Angel's  Name 


Mabel  and  her  husband  drank  deep  of  one 
another's  eyes,  and  the  frail  hand  returned  a 
tender  pressure. 

"  That  '11  mean  money  to  you,  Jim,  I  suppose," 
said  Victor  after  a  pause,  regarding  the  light 
in  his  sister's  face. 

"No;  it  means  money  to  the  other  fellow," 
was  the  laconic  reply. 

"Well,  look  out.  You  must  n't  feel  too  poor 
to  listen  to  me,  you  know." 

James  Barnes's  slight  smile  and  reply  warmed 
his  wife's  heart  still  further. 

"There  is  n't  any  combination  of  people  or 
circumstances,"  he  said  slowly,  "that  could 
make  me  feel  poor." 

"That's  the  talk,"  answered  Victor;  but  he 
turned  and  walked  away  down  the  hill,  for 
his  heart  was  swelling  at  sight  of  his  sister's 
face. 

Lucretia  still  stood,  holding  her  tray  as  if 
rooted  to  the  floor.  She  watched  the  master 
and  mistress  of  the  house,  fascinated. 

James  Barnes  suddenly  looked  up  at  her. 
"Lucretia,  what  do  you  think  of  a  farm  con- 
sidered coldly  and  solely  as  an  investment?" 

Her  reply  came  promptly:  "I  think  it's 
exactly  like  a  sponge,"  she  answered;  "only  it 

419 


The  Right  Track 


drinks  up  money  instead  o'  water  and  it  don't 
never  get  enough." 

James  Barnes  laughed.  He  suddenly  pressed 
his  lips  to  his  wife's  hair;  then  he  kissed  both 
her  hands,  first  one  and  then  the  other. 

"Law!"  thought  Lucretia,  startled  and  red- 
dening, and  she  fled  from  the  unwonted  sight 
of  such  frank  endearment.  She  passed  Camilla 
on  the  way. 

"I  never!"  she  said,  sotto  voce.  "What  does 
it  all  mean?" 

"Love!"  responded  happy  Camilla,  beaming. 

"I  should  say  so!  But  folks  can  be  kind  o' 
decent,  can't  they?"  And  Lucretia  disappeared, 
casting  one  last  shining  look  over  her  shoulder 
toward  the  piazza. 

The  south  breeze  ruffled  the  dark  hair  on 
Mabel's  brow.  It  seemed  as  if  each  zephyr  was 
bringing  her  new  strength;  a  great  and  vitaliz- 
ing gratitude.  Her  husband  seemed  not  to  wish 
to  stir  from  holding  her,  and  watching  her. 
They  were  alone  on  the  piazza  now. 

"Mabel,"  he  said,  and  he  no  longer  smiled. 
His  gray  eyes  besought  the  brown  ones.  "  I  've 
never  heard  you  say  you  loved  me." 

"Dearest,"  she  answered,  "no  one  but  the 
trees  and  the  sky  and  the  brook  has  heard  me 

420 


The  Angel's  Name 


say  it,  but  I  Ve  told  them  a  thousand  times  that 
I  love  you.  I  love  you.  I  love  you." 

Gray  eyes  brimmed,  and  James  Barnes 
pressed  grave  lips  to  hers. 

Presently  she  spoke  again.  "Call  Elaine  for 
me,  will  you,  dear?" 

The  girl  was  romping  with  Angus  on  the  ter- 
race, while  Camilla  sat  near.  Junior  had  climbed 
into  Camilla's  lap  and  was  tickling  her  ear  with 
loud  whispers  as  to  his  intention  to  teach  the 
small  brother  or  sister  his  song. 

At  her  father's  call,  Elaine  came  up  the  steps, 
arranging  her  pretty,  disordered  hair.  She  ap- 
proached the  absorbed  pair. 

"Elaine,"  said  her  stepmother,  and  a  great 
light  shone  in  her  eyes,  "I  want  to  tell  you 
that  we  won't  go  back  to  the  old  house.  You 
may  look  for  the  prettiest  apartment  you  can 
find." 

"Good  news,"  returned  Elaine  with  her  best 
manner.  "What  does  this  mean?" 

"It  means  happiness,  dear,  happiness." 
Mabel  stretched  out  a  hand  to  the  girl,  who 
accepted  it,  touched  in  spite  of  herself  by  the 
joy  in  the  spirituel  face. 

Her  father  took  her  other  hand. 

"It  means,"  he  added,  meeting  her  eyes, 
421 


The  Right  Track 


"that  we  have  begun  our  honeymoon,  Elaine, 
your  Mamabel  and  I." 

The  girl  regarded  him  in  silence;  then  the 
veneer,  polished  to  a  charming  surface  by  those 
excellent  ladies  in  New  York,  cracked  and  broke 
away  in  the  presence  of  a  holy  reality.  The  best 
side  of  the  real  girl  came  to  the  surface. 

"I'm  glad.  I  love  you  both!"  she  exclaimed 
softly  and  quickly.  She  kissed  first  Mabel,  then 
her  father,  clinging  with  both  arms  around  his 
neck. 

Junior's  high  voice  came  from  under  the  elm 
tree,  singing  strong  and  free :  — 

"  For  the  angel's  name  was  Love, 
The  angel's  name  was  Love!" 


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STORIES    OF    WESTERN    LIFE 

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RIDERS  OF  THE  PURPLE  SAGE,    By  Zane  Grey. 
Illustrated  by  Douglas  Duer. 

In  this  picturesque  romance  of  Utah  of  some  forty  years  ago,  we 
are  permitted  to  see  the  unscrupulous  methods  employed  by  the  in- 
visible hand  of  the  Mormon  Church  to  break  the  will  of  those  refus- 
ing to  conform  to  its  rule. 

FRIAR  TUCK,    By  Robert  Alexander  Wason. 
Illustrated  by  Stanley  L.  Wood. 

Happy  Hawkins  tells  us,  in  his  humorous  way,  how  Friar  Tuck 
lived  among  the  Cowboys,  how  he  adjusted  their  quarrels  and  love 
affairs  and  how  he  fought  with  them  and  for  them  when  occasion 
required. 

THE   SKY   PILOT,    By  Ralph   Connor. 
Illustrated  by  Louis  Rhead. 

There  is  no  novel,  dealing  with  the  rough  existence  of  cowboys, 
so  charming  in  the  telling,  abounding  as  it  does  with  the  freshest  and 
the  truest  pathos. 

THE  EMIGRANT  TRAIL,    By  Geraldine  Bonner. 
Colored  frontispiece  by  John  Rae. 

The  book  relates  the  adventures  of  a  party  on  its  overland  pM- 
grimage,  and  the  birth  and  growth  of  the  absorbing  love  of  two  strong 
men  for  a  charming  heroine. 

THE  BOSS   OF  WIND  RIVER,    By  A.  M.  Chisholm. 
Illustrated  by  Frank  Tenney  Johnson. 

This  is  a  strong,  virile  novel  with  the  lumber  industry  for  its  cen- 
tral theme  and  a  love  story  full  of  interest  as  a  sort  of  subplot. 

A  PRAIRIE  COURTSHIP,    By  Harold  Bindloss. 

A  story  of  Canadian  prairies  in  which  the  hero  is  stirred,  through 
the  influence  of  his  love  for  a  woman,  to  settle  down  to  the  heroic 
business  of  pioneer  farming. 

JOYCE  OF  THE  NORTH  WOODS,    By  Harriet  T.  Comstock. 
Illustrated  by  John  Cassel. 

A  story  of  the  deep  woods  that  shows  the  power  of  love  at  work 
among  its  primitive  dwellers.  It  is  a  tensely  moving  study  of  the 
human  heart  and  its  aspirations  that  unfolds  itself  through  thrilling 
a&uations  and  dramatic  developments. 

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